


Gold & Grey

by ToBebbanburg



Series: Ink & Ivy Modern AU [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/M, Gustav Klimt, I hope you're ready for:, Museum dates, Then fluff, because nicky wont stay the fuck still, booker going to therapy like a smart boi, everyone is mortal au, family bonding time, nile modelling for joe, then buckle up for smut, there's a wee bit of angst to start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBebbanburg/pseuds/ToBebbanburg
Summary: Follow up to my tattoo artist Joe/florist Nicky au:Booker has been a certified Hot Mess ever since his wife left him. What followed was a flurry of alcohol and one night stands, therapy, relapse, and therapy again. Then came Nile.Nile had not been impressed by Booker when they had first met. Did she like him? Yes, very much so, but the man was undoubtedly a mess. Until the traumatising day when she realises he's picked his life up and... oh no. He's hot.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman
Series: Ink & Ivy Modern AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955659
Comments: 211
Kudos: 340





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a follow-up to my fic Ink & Ivy, but can be read as a standalone. All you need to know is Nile is an arts history student paying her way by working shifts at Nicky’s florists/cafe. Booker owns a second hand book shop down the road, Joe is a tattoo artist, and Andy and Quynh run a bar together. To make things a little less weird, Nile is 27ish and Booker de-aged to about 35, because.
> 
> This starts just before the opening of a new LGBT section in Booker’s store (Andy and Quynh bullied him into doing it)

Nile had not been impressed by Booker when they had first met. Did she like him? Yes, very much so. He was approachable and welcoming and had a wicked sense of humour that mostly revolved around winding up Nicky, her boss, but the man was undoubtedly a mess.

His shirts always looked like they had been worn to bed, and his jeans looked like they’d been clinging on to life for years. He smoked what seemed like an entire pack of cigarettes a day and his social life consisted entirely of drinking in various different locations. She had once found him asleep in the storeroom of his secondhand bookshop in the middle of the day, using a battered Encyclopaedia Britannica as a pillow and clutching a Moroccan cook book like a teddy.

“Bad divorce.” Nicky had explained to her one morning, after Booker had come into their shop to down three straight shots of espresso then leave. “He moved here for his wife, but she left him a couple of years ago. Took the children up to Scotland and now he only gets to see them on school holidays.”

“Damn.” Was all Nile had been able to say. She hadn't even known that Booker _had_ kids.

“He is trying though.” Nicky had added. “He’s been seeing a therapist and now he’s actually getting up before midday.”

It was a shame, Nile had thought then, that she hadn’t known Booker a decade earlier (and if she hadn’t been a teenager in that scenario). He was undeniably handsome, and kind, and well-read, and if it hadn’t been for the fact he sometimes wore mis-matched shoes he would have totally been her type. As things stood, however, Booker wasn’t in much of a state to be anyone’s type, and as the year went by Nile forgot her initial attraction and happily slipped into the role of friend and occasional partner-in-crime. Until one day, all of a sudden, she realised things had changed.

The change was heralded by Booker himself, who had the audacity to show up at the Terrarium Cafe at 9am one morning, shirt ironed, shoes matching, and without a single whiff of smoke on him. In fact, he smelt faintly of pine, and his hair was still ever so slightly damp which suggested that he’d actually managed to shower that day. He looked suspiciously like a man who had his life together, and Nile’s stomach did the tiniest of back-flips as something long buried started to stir.

“Morning.” Booker smiled at her as he bent down to lean on the counter, studying the menu behind her. “I’ll take a green tea to go, please.”

Tea. Booker wasn’t even chasing a caffeine fix. What on earth had happened?

Booker managed to keep up his fresh start for weeks. Months. He smiled more and drank less and Nile found herself becoming drawn to the new Booker. She was pleased, and a little scared, to find that he appeared to return her growing attraction. He would offer her first refusal on any books he thought she’d like when they came into his shop. She would pay for his coffee on the days when he’d clearly suffered from lack of sleep. They accompany each other to films, to museum exhibits, and when Nicky became taken by the handsome tattoo artist who’d just set up shop on their street they laughed and gossiped and bet on when their friend would finally make a move on him (Booker won. Booker fixed it).

Yet neither of them said anything to acknowledge what was happening between them. Booker brought Nile coffee and chocolate when she pulled near-allnighters in the library. Nile did Booker’s grocery shopping for him when he had the flu. When Nile left her umbrella at university and showed up to work one day drenched to the bone Booker slipped out and picked her up dry clothes from a charity shop. He had unerringly good taste.

“Hypocrite.” Nicky said to Nile one day, as mildly as though he were commenting on the weather.

Nile didn’t notice Nicky had spoken to her at first, as she was too busy smiling at her phone (Booker had just sent her a video of some baby goats on a seesaw). She registered Nicky’s words on a lag and looked up at him with a frown.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Hypocrite.” Nicky repeated, gesturing at her phone. “In case you don’t remember, _you_ were the one who was telling me to stop waiting and make a move on Joe, and now you’re here doing the exact same with Booker!”

“I know.” Nile moaned. “But it’s different!”

Nicky arched an eyebrow at her. She sighed and slipped her phone into her pocket. She had to face her feelings at some point.

“I’ve known Booker for over a year. It’s only recently that things have changed and I don’t... I’m not sure I want to mess with what we have.”

Nicky nodded solemnly, not saying anything, just allowing her to sound off him. Nile suddenly felt as though she had to say _everything_ , that all her new feelings towards Booker needed an outlet and this was it. She opened her mouth and let the words spill out.

“It’s like there’s a disconnect between my heart and my brain. I want _something_ with Booker, but I know that it’s going to be tough. I mean we’re at completely different points in our lives and I like him, I really do, but he’s only just got his life together and I don’t know if he’s really ready for whatever this may be. And maybe he’s not sure what he wants either. What if I want a relationship and he just wants a bit of fun? I don’t know if… I kind of hoped that if I let things continue they’d become clearer, but they haven’t.” Nile took a deep breath. She felt close to crying. “God, I thought things like this were supposed to get easier after high school.”

“Sadly not.” Nicky said with a small smile. “Look at me with Joe. I was a disaster.”

“You were quite bad.” Nile agreed with a slight laugh. “But there was never any danger of you two not getting together.”

“I didn’t see it like that. Looking back, it would have been so much easier if I had just spoken to him.”

“I know. I know I need to just talk to him.” Nile sighed. “But Booker has a lot on his plate right now what with the opening, and his sons visiting soon, and he doesn’t need me complicating things. I’ll leave the awkward discussions until after all that. That’ll give me time to work out what to say.”

“A good plan. And I know whatever you decide will be the best for both of you.” Nicky said.

Nile nodded, feeling both relieved and yet somehow worse for finally acknowledging her feelings out loud. As if reading her mind, Nicky opened his arms out slightly, and Nile stepped forward into the embrace. That was Nicky through and through, Nile thought as she buried her face into his shoulder. Often sparing with his words, but they were always what she needed to hear in the moment.

And his hugs were always amazing too.

*****

Booker had been impressed by Nile when he first met her. She was cheerful and empathetic, but with a stern streak that had seen her convince Nicky to finally stop playing his godawful ska music in his shop less than a week after she started working there. She was studying art history as a mature student, and she was so damn knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the subject that Booker found himself flicking through his stock to find books to read on it. That was when he realised he was screwed.

It had been three years since Booker’s wife had left him. Three years since she had packed up and moved to Scotland taking their sons with her, leaving Booker alone and barely holding on. What had followed had been a flurry of alcohol and one night stands, therapy, relapse, and therapy again. Then came Nile.

It wasn’t as though Nile dragged him out of his depression. He did that himself, with the support of his friends and several different prescriptions, but when he had pulled himself back from the brink and found that he could see clearly again, the only thing he could see was Nile.

Her laugh as she joked with Nicky in the shop. Her look of studious concentration as she read through her course notes at the bar, drink left untouched as she became absorbed in her work. Her smile that she turned on him whenever she saw him, no matter the time of day, no matter the state either of them were in. Booker had almost forgotten what it felt like to just enjoy the company of another person so completely, had worried that he would never feel it again, but here he was. Here was Nile.

Something was building between them, he knew it. He hadn’t dared believe it at first, had thought maybe he had imagined the signs, but as the weeks wore on he became certain of it. There were moments when the words had hung on his tongue, ready to spill out, but it had never seemed like the right time: either he was drunk, or she was, or Nicky was there _obviously_ listening in. Or like now, when the usual slight panic that preceded the few times a year he got to see his sons was eclipsed only by the more pressing concern of how the hell he was going to make it through his bookshop’s LGBT opening night without drinking his own weight in whiskey.

Parties were not Booker’s thing, and parties where he wouldn’t know half the people there were even lower on his priority list of ways to spend a Saturday night. Things were made worse still by Andy’s message barely an hour before opening that the caterer had crashed her van on the way over, and while she herself was fine the food most certainly was not.

“But don’t worry,” Andy said cheerfully over the phone, “I’ve got Nicky on the task.”

“Great.” Booker managed to say before she hung up on him. Great.

As if the sudden change of caterer only an hour before opening wasn’t enough, the guests decided to arrive early. Not many, only two or three, but enough to make Booker the uncomfortable centre of attention. He cursed himself for deciding to pass the time reading in the main room of the shop, instead of in the back room. With the lights off.

After ten minutes of agonising smalltalk (yes it _was_ rather hard competing with Amazon and ebay these days, and no he _couldn’t_ remember the last time they’d had such a wet October), he was saved by the arrival of Nile.

She took his breath away. She was dressed in a metallic gold top with puffed sleeves paired with simple black jeans, and her braids had been twisted up into a knot on top of her head in a way that made her look far too elegant to be stood in his shabby shop. She had been checking her phone when she entered the shop, but she looked up and smiled at him in greeting in a way that made the hideous smalltalk seem an entire world away.

“You look... nice.” He tried. He’d never particularly struggled with words before, had always been able to charm women (and a few men) into his bed with a compliment here and a suggestive sentence there. Nile, however, had the ability to short-circuit his brain, making it damn near impossible for him to remember anything but the most basic English.

“Thanks, Book.” Nile smiled in response. “Though these heels are gonna kill me by the end of the night.”

Booker glanced down and sure enough, Nile had swapped her normal practical trainers for a pair of heeled sandals the same gold as her top. Great. Apparently he had a thing for women in heels now too. Although on second thoughts, maybe that was just Nile.

“Caterer’s crashed.” Booker said nonchalantly once he was capable of speech. “Nicky and Joe’re making the food so god knows how that’ll turn out.”

“Nicky’s a good cook.” Nile reassured him. “He’s got this, I’m sure.”

“Hey, I don’t doubt his abilities in the kitchen at all.” Booker said. “I’m more concerned about if Joe helping him is a good idea.”

“Ah.” Nile laughed, something halfway between a snort and a giggle and _that_ somehow got to Booker more than the gold heels did.

“I can check on them if you like? Supervise?” Nile offered.

“Nonono, don’t leave me alone. The others aren’t here yet and I can’t deal with making smalltalk on my own.” Booker said, not quite quiet enough to avoid being overheard by the early guests. One of them shot him a particular venomous look and purposefully put the book she had been flicking through onto the wrong shelf.

“Alright.” Nile laughed again. “Luckily for you, I’m a smalltalk expert. Stick with me and I’ll introduce you to a whole new world of social interaction.”

Somehow, when Nile pulled him over to the now slightly hostile guests, Booker found he no longer minded talking about the weather.

*****

The opening party had been going well, Nile thought, up until the moment Booker disappeared. And of course he disappeared right at the moment when the party started winding down and people wanted to say their goodbyes to him before they left.

“He’s out back, having a smoke.” Quynh told her. “Just a regular one though, not one of Andy’s “special blend”.”

“Snitch.” Andy said good-naturedly, pulling her wife into a hug.

“He’s been gone a while though.” Nile pointed out. Neither of the two women seemed overly concerned. Both women smelt faintly of Andy’s “special blend”.

Nile headed out to the back alley behind the shop, and sure enough Booker was leaning against the wall, a cigarette in hand and a mournful expression on his face.

“Hey.” Nile called out as she wrapped her arms around herself. It had got dark in the last hour or so, and a chill hung in the air. Booker seemed not to mind, warmed by the cigarette in his hand. He looked tired, his hair falling around his face as he moved his gaze up from the ground to look at her instead.

“Hey.” He called back, though lacking any enthusiasm.

“Been out here a while, are you ok?” Nile asked him. He laughed softly, almost to himself, and took a drag from his cigarette.

“I’m fine. Go back to the party.”

“Nuh-uh.” Nile shook her head. “Either tell me what’s wrong or say you don’t want to talk: don’t bullshit me with this “I’m fine” business.”

Booker studied her for a second, and though she’d seen him down several whiskeys that evening his eyes seemed clear and focused.

“You know how back when we first met I was a mess?” He asked.

“You weren’t that bad-“ Nile started, but he cut her off.

“No, I was. Therapy twice a week, getting by on a mixture of prescription drugs and good old self-medication. God, every day was a struggle.” He took a puff of his cigarette and blew it out slowly. “I’m better now. Much better. But sometimes... it comes back. And I can’t help it. This is a great night. My friends are here, my bookshop’s got a whole new clientele, and yet my mind has just decided to cut itself off from that. I just needed some peace, get away from it all for a moment.”

He forced a laugh. “Bet you’re regretting asking now, huh?”

Nile shook her head. “Not even slightly. I get that.”

“Yeah right. You don’t need to make me feel better.” Booker scoffed.

“I’m not.” Nile said sternly, something shifting inside her. “I was a marine, remember? When I quit the marines I had all these memories of the horrible things I’d seen. The horrible things I’d _done_. And God, Booker, the _guilt_. You know why I came to uni here? The mental health services were some of the best and I needed that. I needed help to process everything. Our pasts may be different but the end result is the same. So believe me when I say ‘I get that’. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by happiness but unable to engage with it.”

Nile took a deep breath. She hadn’t expected things to get this heavy. She put a smile on her face and turned to Booker, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“But we get through it. You need some peace? I’ll cover for you in there. Hell, give me your keys, I’ll lock up if you want to go home.” She said, holding out her hand for his keys.

Booker looked at her hand for a second, then before she could register what was happening he took it in his own hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. 

“Tu es un ange.” He said softly.

For a second, Nile was certain that he was going to kiss her properly, that he was going to pull her into his arms and bring his lips down to meet hers. Her heart pounded in her ears, and time seemed to slow in anticipation. Booker was oh so close to her, she could smell the smoke clinging to his clothes, feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and for a single moment her entire world hung on a precipice.

The Booker drew away, his features clouding over. He muttered something in French under his breath and stubbed his cigarette out on the wall behind him.

“The keys are in the kitchen. By the kettle.” He said, his eyes meeting hers for a heartbeat before he abruptly turned and walked away down the alley.

Nile stood alone by the shop, unsure whether to laugh or cry. They had been so close, and yes, Booker having a minor relapse in a dark back alley was _not_ the best setting for a first kiss, but God help her she had wanted it so badly. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a breath to steady herself. He had been going to kiss her, she knew it. And judging by the regret in his eyes before he left he still wanted to kiss her.

And next time, she wouldn’t let him walk away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile poses for Joe wearing a table cloth and Booker writes a shopping list. It's all kicking off I tell you.

There was a text waiting for Nile when she woke up the next morning, her head pounding in a way that signified that she was getting far too old to still be drinking champagne like it was water. _Why_ she had told Nicky she would be fine to come in to work in the morning she had no idea. It took all of her concentration to focus on the message on her phone, her heart pounding as much as her head as she saw it was from Booker.

_2:17 Hey. Thanks for tonight. Last night. whatever_

_2:18 Dont forget this goes both ways: if you ever need me I’ll be there in an instant_

Nile couldn’t help but smile at the messages. She knew what it was like to have moments like that, moments when nothing seemed important but her own pain, and the fact that Booker had still thought about her own wellbeing spoke volumes.

Her resolve in her plan not to mess with the status quo just yet strengthened: there was no need to hurry. It had been awful, yesterday, admitting her feelings and worries to Nicky, and yet she felt oddly at peace now. She and Booker would happen when they were both ready, and last night just wasn’t going to be it, however much she had wanted it to at the time.

She re-read his messages as she brushed her teeth, trying hard not to jostle her head too much as she did so in an attempt not to aggravate her headache. Replying was harder, her brain struggling to connect more than three coherent words together, but eventually she managed it.

 _Thank you :)_ she settled for, followed by _Hope you’re doing better today x_

The “x” was nothing new. She put them at the end of any message where emotional weight was required, whether the recipient was Booker or Nicky or her brother. No, the “x” was nothing new, and yet it _felt_ new. It carried a weight to it that hadn’t been there before, and Nile debated whether she should take it out. She ultimately decided to leave it in, and dropped her phone into her pocket as she walked to the bus stop. The screen was hurting her eyes.

It was only when she got off the bus that she checked her phone again, and her heart hummed as she read the message on the screen.

_Much better thanks x_

_That_ “x” was definitely new. Booker was barely known for punctuation in his texts, let alone any remote sign of affection. The “x” burned itself into Nile’s mind as she walked the rest of the way to the shop, there on the backs of her eyelids whenever she closed her eyes.

“Morning Nile.” Nicky smiled at her as she entered the shop. _X_ she thought.

“Morning Nicky.” She replied. _X X X_

She wondered if she could patent unexpected “x” on the ends of texts as a hangover cure, as her head was definitely throbbing much less than it had been when she had woken up, and everything seemed sharper, clearer. The sky outside was grey, but there was a distinct glimmer of sun in the distance and Nile knew that today would be a good day. She watered the plants in the storeroom, did a quick stock check, then moved into the kitchen to do a sweep of the fridge.

They weren’t low on anything, and nothing was out of date, but front and centre on the top shelf was something she’d never thought she’d see in Nicky’s tidy kitchen. Someone had decided that instead of putting the block of cheddar back into its packaging, they had thought it perfectly acceptable to just leave the cheese unwrapped and balanced on top of a jar of olives. Disgusting.

“Nicky.” Nile said sternly. “Did you and Joe make melted cheese here again last night?”

“Why?” Nicky strolled over, took one look at the open fridge, then broke into a torrent of Italian curses. Nile picked out the name “Yusuf” in amongst the swearing, but that was it.

“What should I do?” She asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“Take it and shove it through his letterbox, see how he likes it.” Nicky said savagely.

“Nuh-uh.” Nile said. “I’m not getting involved in whatever weird cheese related foreplay you guys have going on.”

Nicky cursed again, this time definitely invoking the name of some obscure Italian saint, but he picked up the cheddar and dropped it into its packet.

“I knew he was too good to be true.” He said as he looked at the cheese sadly.

“It’s ok. You can teach him to be a better person.” Nile said as she patted Nicky’s shoulder in mock consolation. “In fact, you can start now.”

Joe had just walked into the shop, hands in his pockets and blissfully unaware of the trouble he was in. Nile smothered a laugh as Nicky stalked off into the storeroom, beckoning for Joe to follow him.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph, Yusuf, what were you-” she heard, before the door swung shut behind them.

They didn’t emerge for a while, and Nile tried not to think too hard about what they were up to in there as she set about putting together the centre pieces for a function that were due to be picked up just before lunch. Annoyingly, the florist foam she needed was kept in the storeroom, but she gathered the flowers that she needed and set to work trimming the stalks at one of the tables. It was mindless, therapeutic work, and she happily passed twenty minutes cutting away and humming along to the radio.

When Nicky and Joe finally re-emerged, she pointedly rolled her eyes at them both. Honestly. In the storeroom?

“I needed to get in there.” She reproached Nicky as she stood up to make her way over to the now thankfully vacant room. He at least had the good grace to flush and mumble an apology, as opposed to Joe who was looking incredibly smug with himself. She suspected the cheese incident was long forgotten in both their minds.

“Niiiiile?” Joe called as he followed her into the storeroom.

“Joooooee?” She called back, picking up her knife along with several blocks of foam.

Joe leant against the doorframe, his hands wrapped around a keep cup of coffee and his hair slightly mussed from where Nicky had undoubtedly been running his hands through it.

“I think it goes without saying that you looked stunning last night,” he started, and Nile grinned. Compliments from Joe were always so earnest, without a hint of ulterior motive.

“And the gold got me thinking about how I want to experiment with my style more.” He continued.

“You’re finally going to add some colour to your monochrome world?” Nile pretended to be shocked.

“Almost.” Joe laughed. “I thought I’d start with gold. I’ve got some gold leaf I’ve been meaning to try out, and I wondered if you’d be willing to be my subject? Clothed, obviously.”

“Ah, is it too distracting when you try to draw Nicky?”

“Yes.” Joe said honestly. “But not how you’d think. That man will willingly sit as still as a statue whilst watching TV, but the second I try to draw him he can’t hold a pose for more than a minute. Terrible.”

“I guess if my time in the marines was good for one thing, it’s that I can stand still for ridiculous amounts of time.” Nile admitted.

“Wonderful!” Joe took a celebratory sip of coffee, then pulled a face. “Urgh, cold.”

“When were you thinking?” Nile asked as she started slicing the foam up into more manageable sizes. It sounded quite surreal, posing for Joe to draw her, but at the same time she was intrigued by it. No one had ever drawn her before. Maybe if it was good she could get him to do another for her to send home to her mum.

“This afternoon? Nicky says the cafe’s always dead on Sunday afternoons.”

“This afternoon? Sure but, I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.” Nile gestured vaguely at the fetching apron and trainers combo she was currently sporting.

“Leave that to me.” Joe said mysteriously, backing out of the storeroom and bumping straight into Nicky, who was holding the now packaged block of cheddar in his hand.

“Yours now.” Nicky said, placing it on top of Joe’s coffee cup. “£2.50.”

*****

Booker didn’t register that he’d sent the “x” until hours later. He had slept in snatches throughout the night, waking up for odd half-hours before falling back to sleep. He replied to Nile without thinking, then sank straight back into unconsciousness. When he finally woke up properly it had just passed midday, and the enormity of what he’d done slowly hit him.

It wasn’t that he regretted it, it was more that he wished it had been something he’d done whilst fully aware of it. Although perhaps if he’d thought about it he wouldn’t have done it. The “x” glared at him from his phone screen, a stark reminder that what he’d apparently found so easy to type had _not_ been so easy to actually do the night before. He had been so close to kissing Nile, so close to finally doing what he'd dreamt about for weeks. But it hadn't been the right time. Again.

Goddamnit, he did not need to be worrying about what was happening with Nile right now, not with his sons coming to visit in a couple of days. He needed to get food in, needed to tidy, needed to work out what the hell he was going to do to keep three young boys amused for a week.

Sorting shopping lists out seemed like an easy yet productive use of his time, and Booker tried to push Nile from his mind as he dug out the small notebook he kept in his kitchen. In it were lists upon lists of the foods his sons had decided they either liked or hated over the years: Booker got regular updates from Marie, his ex-wife, on any developments on that front. He’d started keeping the list the year after the divorce, when his sons had come to stay with him for the first time and Jean-Pierre had cried when confronted with fish fingers.

“But they need their fingers.” His three year old son had wailed.

“Jean-Pierre loves fish, papa.” Leon, his eldest, had told him as reproachfully as an eight year old could. “He could never eat them.”

That single moment had stuck in Booker’s mind, and ever since then he had managed to avoid a similar incident. He managed to win favour back with Jean-Pierre by buying him a plush Nemo for his birthday, and two years on his son still took the fish with him everywhere he went.

Fish fingers were apparently acceptable now though, so long as they were referred to only as “fingers”, and on they went to Booker’s shopping list along with the dozen other foods he knew to be favourites with his sons. As much as Booker didn’t plan his own meals when he was alone, cooking for three young boys required a lot more forethought, and writing up the list took him well over half an hour. He finished by adding Coco Pops to the list: it was a petty move, as he knew Marie had banned sugary cereals in her house, but he knew how much his sons loved them.

He was just gearing himself up to tidy up the spare bedroom when his phone lit up with a message. It was Nile. Just like that Booker’s resolve not to think about her too much crumbled, and he instantly picked up his phone to see what she had said.

_1:42 Weird request: it’s something of a slow afternoon here and Joe’s talked me into posing for one of his drawings. Nicky’s here, obvs, and third-wheeling whilst staying still is going to be a bitch, so if you fancy keeping me company I would be very grateful. Coffee on me, of course :)_

Booker had never made the journey between his house and his shop so fast.

When he arrived at the Terrarium Cafe he was confronted with the unusual sight of Nile wrapped in a white tablecloth (yet still fully clothed underneath) and stood on an upturned crate in the centre of the cafe. Joe was sat at one of the tables, sketching away on large A3 notebook, and Nicky was idly wandering around the shop, alternating between tidying and peering over Joe’s shoulder to whisper praise in his ear.

“Book!” Nile’s face lit up as she caught sight of him, and she almost waved before remembering she was supposed to be staying still.

“Excellent.” Joe said without looking up. “How good are you at staying still, Booker? I could draw you next.”

“I doubt I could hold a pose for more than a minute.” Booker admitted, dropping into the seat next to Joe and peering over at his notebook. There was little detail marking it as Nile at that point, but Joe had sketched out her general outline and the folds of the tablecloth around her.

“I’ve had an idea.” Joe told him. “And it’s going to be beautiful.”

Of course it was, Booker thought. He was drawing Nile.

“Thank God you’re here, Book, these two have been debating which of the _many_ Crusades had the biggest socioeconomic impact.” Nile said, trying to talk without moving her lips.

“You can talk.” Joe told her with a laugh. “And of course it was the 3rd Crusade. Everyone today knows of Saladin and Richard the Lionheart.”

“But none of that would have even happened without the 1st Crusade. As far as impact goes, nothing can have had a bigger effect than the one that started it all.” Nicky interjected.

“Please, no more.” Nile pleaded. “Booker, tell me you’ve got something interesting to talk about.”

“Well actually, I need your help.” he started.

“We know.” Nicky replied. Booker picked a poppy out of the vase on the table and threw it at him like a javelin.

“The kids are coming in a couple of days, and I can barely think of enough things to do for a day let alone seven. I need ideas.” He explained.

“Right.” Nicky abandoned all pretence of working and sat down at their able, pulling Joe’s spare notebook and pencil towards him and flicking through to a blank page. He divided it neatly into seven columns, then each of those into three rows. “You’ll want an activity to cover morning, early afternoon, and late afternoon for each day they’re here. You can discount the first morning and last evening of the week for packing and-“

“No.” Booker interrupted, flipping the cover of the notebook shut on Nicky’s fingers. Nicky withdrew his fingers and threw the pen at him, much to Joe’s dismay. Booker admitted that he might have deserved that.

“I won’t be able to stick to a schedule, sorry Nicky.” He explained. “I just need ideas and then I dunno, I’ll let the kids decide.”

“How old are they?” Nile asked.

“Leon’s almost 11, Gabriel is 8, and Jean-Pierre’s 5. I don’t.. I don’t see them enough anymore to really know what they like doing.”

“We’ll figure something out.” Joe told him, and Nicky gave him a quick consoling rub on the back. Nile twitched, as though she wanted to do something, but she remained poised.

“Well, museums, obviously.” Nicky started. “They’re aimed at all ages.”

“Museums.” Booker muttered, typing them into his phone. “Science, transport, natural history, actual history... what have I missed?”

“Mining museum?” Joe offered.

“A last resort I think.” Booker decided.

“It may be a bit boring to spend too long there, but the art museum’s got plenty of stuff to look at. And I can vouch for the cafe there, they do a wonderful carrot cake- sorry, Nicky.” Nile said.

“No, you’re right.” Nicky waved his hand dismissively.

“There’s a touring exhibition on Native American art there at the minute, I can get cheap tickets through uni if you like?” Nile added.

“That would be great.” Booker said. He looked up at her, and though her head was fixed firmly in the position Joe had set for her, her eyes flickered down to meet his. She smiled, and for a moment Booker forgot that Nicky and Joe were even in the room.

“I could go with you, if you like. Tell the boys all the fun and naughty stories behind the artworks.” She said. “Plus, if they’re anything like my nieces one of them will run off at some point and that’s when an extra adult really comes in handy. I can take an afternoon this week off, can’t I Nicky?”

“Take two.” Nicky said. “You should really take your holidays more often.”

Booker added “-with Nile” to his note about the art gallery, trying to keep his expression neutral. That Nile wanted to meet his sons, that she would take time off work to spend time with them, meant more to him than he had thought it would. His few attempts at dating over the years were often brought to a halt by his date’s attitude to his children, and if anything were to happen with Nile he needed her to at least tolerate his sons.

 _“Must be a relief you didn’t get them in the divorce.”_ One woman he’d met for drinks had once remarked. Booker didn’t give her the chance to say much else after that.

“If the weather’s good, take them round one of the parks.” Nicky suggested.

“The weather will be horrible, take them to a _water_ park.” Joe rebutted. “Much more fun.”

“Oh! I’ll come along to that too if you want.” Nile said, much more eagerly than she had suggested accompanying them to the art gallery. “Kids have to be accompanied by adults on the rapids, and again, three kids is rather a lot to manage on your own. Plus, I love the rapids.”

“Damn, I want to go on the rapids.” Joe said mournfully.

“I’ll take you.” Nicky promised him, and Joe beamed.

“What about football? They're your kids, they've got to love football, right?” Nile prompted. “Any matches on this week?”

“There’s a home match on Saturday.” Joe said. “And tickets in the family zone never sell out ahead of time. You’re not allowed to swear in there, though.”

“Good luck.” Nicky snorted.

“I’ll have you know I never swear in front of the children.” Booker told him archly. It wasn’t strictly true- he may have slipped up a few times in the past, but as a general rule he tried not to. “Football sounds good, Joe, thanks.”

“And there’s Joe’s open night at his place.” Nicky suggested, a hint of pride in his voice. “He’s taken Nile’s idea and decided to put a few of his pieces on sale.”

“And those of other local artists.” Joe added.

“Is this drawing of me going to be for sale?” Nile asked, and Booker found his heart constricting at the thought of someone else owning a picture of Nile. Joe had been working on the details of her face while they talked, and the resemblance was so true to form it was incredible.

“That’s entirely up to you.” Joe said, looking up at Nile in order to smile at her reassuringly. The vice around Booker’s heart loosened a little. Nile grinned.

“I’ll decide when I see it.” She said, and Joe hummed his agreement.

“So.” Booker had to clear his throat before he spoke. Thinking about Nile too hard did weird things to his voice. “Museums, art gallery, park, water park, football, and Joe’s art show. That should be enough, right?”

“More than enough.” Nile reassured him. Booker hoped she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but if you put cheese in the fridge without wrapping it in anything you're a heathen.
> 
> I'm on tumblr, @tobebbanburg if ya ever want to drop by (unless you're an aforementioned cheese heathen)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Nile and Booker's date but it's not a date because there are kids about, but it is kind of a date, but it's not.

“Papa!”

Booker heard his kids before he saw them, and scanned the crowd at the train station searching for the source of the cry. He didn’t have to look long: Jean-Pierre barrelled past the other passengers to throw himself at Booker’s legs, his eyes bright and his smile wide as he looked up at him.

“Hey, mon chou.” Booker lifted Jean-Pierre up into a hug and kissed his cheek, then braced himself as Gabriel also threw himself into the hug, wrapping his arms tight around Booker’s middle.

Leon came last, dragging a suitcase almost as large as himself behind him, and accompanied by his mother, Marie. Booker nodded in greeting to his ex-wife, then dropped Jean-Pierre back to the ground so that he could hug Leon properly.

“Look at you all,” he said proudly, “so tall! If you keep growing this fast you’ll be taller than your mother in no time.”

“A terrible thought.” Marie laughed. “But I have a few years of being the tallest left, I think.”

She leant gracefully forward to kiss Booker on each cheek, just like he’d taught her when they first met. His stomach clenched as it always did: not for want of something more, but out of an intrinsic sadness for what had been.

“You look good, Sebastien.” She said. “Better.”

“I am.” He said truthfully. “As do you. How’s Malcom?”

Marie’s face twisted slightly. “We split up. About a month ago. I thought it best to wait and tell you in person.”

Well. That was something. Marie and Malcom had been dating for almost two years, and Booker had been sure they would move in together any day now. The baser part of him delighted in the news, but he smothered those thoughts. Yes, he had initially been jealous that Marie had managed to move on from him seemingly quickly, and as a result he had never liked Malcom, but he still cared for Marie in their new lives and didn’t like to see her upset.

“I’m sorry.” He said, after what was probably a beat too long. “Are you alright?”

“Coping.” She said. “And these guys have kept me more than distracted, haven’t you?” She directed at the children, who all nodded in various degrees of comprehension. Jean-Pierre made his Nemo toy solemnly nod too, and Marie laughed, sniffing as she wiped an unshed tear from her eye.

“Well.” She said. “Be good for your papa, boys, and have lots of fun.” She kissed them all in turn, then waved goodbye to Booker as she shouldered her bag and disappeared back into the crowd.

“Alright.” Booker addressed his sons. “Let’s get your bags back to my house, then who wants pizza?”

“Me!” Gabriel and Jean-Pierre shouted eagerly, and even Leon nodded his agreement.

Booker took the large suitcase in one hand, Jean-Pierre’s hand in the other, and led the boys out of the train station.

*****

The pizza place Booker had in mind was just a few streets away from his shop, and on a whim he decided to drop by the Terrarium Cafe to introduce his kids to Nile and Nicky (Joe was busy with a client, it looked like, and while Booker was more than happy to distract Nicky while he was at work, distracting Joe would have rather more severe consequences).

“Just stopping by.” Booker announced as he herded his sons into the shop. “We’re off to grab some pizza but I thought I’d finally introduce you to my boys.”

Both Nile and Nicky dropped what they were doing in record time, and came over to allow Booker to make the introductions. None of Booker’s children were especially shy, though Leon had a considered “I’m going to high school next year” facade in place, and Jean-Pierre soon decided that the various plants and flowers were much more interesting than the people who sold them.

“So PRETTY!” he enthused as he looked round the shop. “What’s that one?” He asked Booker, jabbing his finger towards the nearest flower.

“Ah...” Booker faltered, instinctively looking to Nile for help.

“Those are orchids.” Nile said. “And these are branches of dried honesty.” She added, pointing to the vase next to it.

“And that?” Jean-Pierre asked, pointing to a plant at the far end of the shop. He ran off towards it and Nile followed, laughing as she gave him the names of each flower he pointed at.

“Why’s your accent weird? Are you French like papa?” Gabriel asked Nicky without a single shred of shame, not caring for the plants around him in the slightest.

“I’m from Italy. It’s a little further away than France, and much nicer.” Nicky answered amiably. “Pizza’s from Italy, you know.”

“In Scotland, they deep fry the pizza.” Gabriel told him. Nicky suddenly looked one step away from a heart attack at the news.

“Not all of it, surely?” He asked faintly.

“Not all of it, no.” Gabriel agreed. “Only most of it. Maybe almost 100%. And they would deep fry the pasta too but there’s laws against that now because... because one time long ago this king, Henry the 8th actually, choked on some deep fried bolognese and nearly died, so he outlawed it because he was so mad and now no one can deep fry pasta.”

“Oh.” Nicky said, looking relieved. “You’re joking.”

Nicky was being kind: Gabriel was lying. At least Nicky thought the pizza was also part of the lie: Booker wasn’t sure he was ready for the truth, and didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

“Can you cook pizza then? I’m going to learn to cook pizza and then it’ll be all I’ll ever eat and my pizza will be so good people will come from all around the world to eat it and I’ll be the pizza king. Can you teach me?” Gabriel continued.

“Alright ma puce, let’s leave Nicky alone.” Booker interrupted, clapping a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“No, it’s fine. I can teach him to make pizza. Maybe not right now…” Nicky said, sounding almost recovered from his deep-fried pizza scare.

“Yes, I think today just eating pizza is all we’re up for.” Booker agreed, before whistling across the shop at Jean-Pierre, who was utterly captivated by the snapdragon bud Nile held in her hands. “Come on, lunch time.”

“Cute kids.” Nile remarked as she came back over, Jean-Pierre in tow.

“They’re cute now, wait until you have to spend two hours keeping tabs on them in a museum.” Booker warned her. “It’s not too late to back out now.”

“You’re coming with us?” Jean-Pierre asked excitedly, whirling round to look up at Nile. Nile grinned back at him, then turned her smile to Booker.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

*****

Nile had butterflies in her stomach. Which was ridiculous, she told herself, as butterflies were reserved for occasions such as new jobs, or first dates. And taking Booker and his three children for a tour of the art gallery was decidedly _not_ a first date. And yet. She could barely concentrate during her morning lecture, and managed little more than a few bites of her salad at lunch. _Ridiculous_.

The butterflies only finally abated when she stepped off the bus at the art gallery, and she caught sight of Booker’s little family waiting outside. All three boys had the same sandy hair as their father, though while the Leon’s hair was short and neat, the two younger boys had messy tangles of hair that hung around their ears. Jean-Pierre had a plush fish in his hands that he waved excitedly about when he caught sight of her.

“Hope you haven’t been here long.” She said, petting the fish that was offered up to her.

“Aaaaaages.” Gabriel groaned, at the same time as Booker said “Barely a few minutes.”

“Gabriel.” Booker chided. “We talked about the lying.”

“Yes. Only if it’s mum.”

“ _Gabriel_.”

Booker gave Nile a look of exasperation, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

“Shall we go in?” she said, once she could school her expression into something more appropriate.

“Lead the way.” Booker said grandly, stepping back to allow Nile to enter first.

The art gallery was met with varying degrees of success. Gabriel and Jean-Pierre raced through all of the galleries in record time, barely stopping to look at the various paintings and sculptures let alone stick around to learn anything about them, and soon tired themselves out running to and fro. Leon, on the other hand, hung on Nile’s every word as she talked about the stories behind both the art and artists, and studied each piece with a sombre expression.

Booker mediated between the two extremes, spending one minute listening to Nile and the next desperately trying to locate his youngest sons. Nile found it strangely enjoyable, and as they worked their way through the various galleries Leon began to emerge from his shell, and was as soon almost as talkative as Gabriel by the time they reached the end. He reminded her a lot of Booker: fairly taciturn on the surface, but eager enough to talk once he felt comfortable.

The touring exhibition of Native American art fared slightly better all around, with Gabriel’s exclamation of “this is soooo much cooler than all those weird naked painting of ladies” causing bemused smiles and laughs from the other tourists. Both he and Jean-Pierre were somewhat worn out by their charge through the earlier exhibits, and they made their way round at a much more sedate pace.

“It’s a shame I don’t have any modules covering this.” Nile remarked sadly to Booker as she studied a Haida argillite carving. “Most of my course this year is all European based.”

“Those damn Europeans.” Booker said dryly.

Nile laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a Monet as much as the next person, I just wish we had a little more variety. Perhaps I could do something a little different for my dissertation next year.”

“You should.” Booker encouraged her. “Why do what everyone else has already done? I’ll see if I have any books on it back at the shop if you like.”

“Thanks.” Nile said warmly. “I’d like- oh.”

The ‘oh’ was due to Jean-Pierre dramatically laying down on the ground by their feet.

“I’m tired.” He moaned.

“I think,” Booker said, hoisting Jean-Pierre back up onto his feet, “It’s time to try out the cafe.” 

Jean-Pierre immediately perked up. “Chocolate cake?” He asked hopefully.

“You can share one.” Booker told him. " _If_ you behave."

“I’ll go scout out a table.” Nile offered. “Could you grab me a green tea please?”

“Of course.” Booker nodded.

“I’ll go with Nile.” Leon announced.

“Good idea, make sure she doesn’t wander off.” Booker winked at her, and Nile felt her cheeks flush.

“C’mon then, lets go get a table.” She said to Leon, leaving the others behind.

Leon, she was learning, though only two years older than Gabriel had decided to distance himself from his younger brothers.

“They’re so _silly_.” He explained to her as they found a mostly empty table. “I’m too old for that.”

Nile had to laugh. “You’re never too old for a little silliness. Your dad is outright ridiculous on occasion.”

“Really?” Leon asked, the beginnings of a smile forming on his normally serious face.

“Really. You remember Nicky, from the cafe? One time he went on holiday and asked me and your dad to water his plants for him. We watered his plants, but then your dad decided to turn everything in his room upside down. The sofa, the table... he didn’t turn the bookcase upside down, but he did flip every single book on the shelves.”

“But... why?” Leon asked, though he was beginning to laugh.

“Because it’s funny!”

“Did he get in trouble?”

“Only a little. Nicky thought it was funny.” Nile sniggered as she remembered. Nicky had made Booker decaffeinated coffee for an entire fortnight after that incident.

“Are you spreading lies about me to my children?” Booker asked from behind her as he made his way over with a tray.

“Me?” Nile tried to look innocent. “I would never.”

He shook his head at her as he sat down, and she shared a conspiratorial grin with Leon as she raised a finger to her lips. He mimed zipping his mouth shut, then eagerly reached for the brownie Booker placed in front of him.

“You mentioned you liked the carrot cake.” Booker said as he set a plate and a cup down in front of her.

“I did, thanks, Book.” Nile grinned. She’d been looking forward to this cake ever since she had offered to take Booker and his family around the art gallery, but had completely forgotten to ask him to get her a slice. She was impressed (and very happy) that Booker had remembered.

“Why’d you call him ‘Book’?” Jean-Pierre asked her around a mouthful of brownie.

“Is it because he owns a bookshop?” Gabriel butted in, then had a mini revelation and added: “Does he call you Nile because you own the river?! That’s so cool. Can we go? Do you own the pyramids as well? What about the Sphinx?”

“Don’t be silly.” Leon told him. “Nile’s just a name.”

Nile almost choked on the piece of carrot cake she was eating as a laugh was forced out of her.

“Leon’s right, Nile’s just my name.”

“And our surname is French for ‘book’, right papa?” Leon looked up at Booker, who smiled and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Oui, bien joué.”

Leon stuck his tongue out at Gabriel, who tried to stick his out even further in return.

“Why can’t I speak French like Leon?” Jean-Pierre asked.

A flicker of sadness passed over Booker’s face, and he took a sip of coffee to cover it.

“You used to, when you were younger. I suppose you’ve forgotten it all.” He said.

“Not me.” Gabriel said proudly. “I can say ‘bonjour’ and ‘Je m’appelle Gabriel’ and ‘putain’.”

Nile’s French wasn’t great, but she certainly recognised that last word. Booker had gone quite pale.

“How did you learn that?” He demanded.

“It means football! You always yell it when you’re watching the football.”

“Non, Gabriel, that’s a bad word and you shouldn’t say it.”

“What, I can’t say ‘putain’? What’s wrong with ‘putain’?”

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel grinned and took a big slurp of his hot chocolate. Nile couldn’t help but giggle, and Booker looked at her despairingly.

“Your dad’s right, it’s a bad word.” She agreed, trying to sound serious and aware that she was failing miserably. A few tourists a table over shot them mildly disgusted looks, and Nile caught snatches of French as they turned away. Oh dear.

When they were all sufficiently revived from their cakes, Booker announced that it was time for the most stressful part of their outing: the gift-shop.

“You can go, if you like.” He said to her. “You don’t have to stay and watch Gabriel buy five different bouncy balls.”

“I’ll stay.” Nile said. “The gift-shop’s always the best bit.” She didn’t add that she also wanted to spend an extra 15 minutes with Booker, but from the way he smiled at her she knew that the feeling was more than mutual. It was an incredibly strange situation, the more she thought about it: were it not for the three boys, it would almost be like they were on a date.

But, three boys there were, and both she and Booker shepherded them towards the gift-shop. Leon was apparently old enough to look after his own spending money, but both Gabriel and Jean-Pierre eagerly held their hands open as Booker counted them out their allowance, then ran off as soon as the money was in their hands.

“Do you want spending money too?” Booker asked Nile, smirking.

“Ooh, how much do I get?” Nile played along. “I’ve got my heart set on one of those branded erasers.”

Booker huffed out a breath. “That’s a little on the steep-side. I’ll give you 50p for a postcard.” He dug around in his wallet and produced a 50p coin.

“You do know how to treat a girl.” Nile laughed, pocketing the 50p nevertheless. That was almost 1/3rd of her bus fare home.

They were interrupted by the return of Jean-Pierre, who was holding a large ceramic teapot decorated in the style of Picasso.

“Can I get this?” He asked earnestly. Booker gently prised the teapot from his fingers.

“I think it’s maybe a bit expensive.” He said. “How about we look at something else?”

“Ok.” Jean-Pierre shrugged, unperturbed, and ran back off. Booker rolled his eyes at Nile and followed him to the other side of the shop. Nile watched them for a moment, feeling an odd pull in the pit of her stomach as Booker helped Jean-Pierre look through the more appropriately priced souvenirs. He seemed so much more in his element as a father than he did almost anywhere else, more patient and quicker to smile.

She had a brief vision of Booker with a dark-haired toddler on his hip, smiling as he carried the little girl around. She shook herself. She still didn’t know what exactly was growing between herself and Booker: thinking of children was _definitely_ a little presumptive.

She wandered off to the book section of the shop, and flicked through a few of them as she waited for Booker and his sons to finish. She ended up buying one on Indigenous North American art: perhaps she _would_ write her dissertation next year on the topic.

The others seemed to have finished by the time she paid up, and she left the shop only to be immediately accosted by Jean-Pierre, eager to show her the beret-wearing rubber duck he had bought.

“It squeaks!” He announced. It did indeed squeak. Booker had the stoic look of a man resigned to a week of sudden high-pitched noises.

“Say ‘thank you to Nile’ for showing us around, boys.” He prompted, once the squeaking had stopped, and the boys all dutifully thanked her.

“It was my pleasure.” Nile said, staggering slightly as Jean-Pierre hugged her knees with more force than she’d expected for someone his height.

“Leon, why don’t you take your brothers for a last toilet trip?” Booker said, nodding his head in the direction of the bathrooms. Leon grumbled, but took Jean-Pierre by the hand and hauled him off, Gabriel a few paces behind.

Booker waited until his boys had safely made it to the toilets before reaching inside the inner pocket of his jacket for something. He pulled out a small paper bag, branded with the art gallery logo, and handed it to Nile.

“I got you this. To say thanks for helping out today.” Booker said, handing her the bag.

Nile took the bag and shook the contents out onto her hand: inside were a pair of gold earrings depicting Klimt’s Tree of Life. They were ever so slightly translucent, and sparkled when she held them up to the light.

“These are gorgeous, thank you so much.” She breathed.

“It’s alright.” Booker’s voice was gruff, but his mouth twitched into a smile as he watched her reaction.

“Here, hold them a moment.” Nile deposited the earrings and their bag back into Booker’s hand, then deftly took out the studs she currently had in her ears, replacing them with the Klimt earrings.

“What do you think?” She asked once they were in, pulling a couple of overly dramatic poses to show them off from different angles. Booker laughed.

“Beautiful.” He said. “You wear them well.”

“Thanks.” Nile grinned, then without thinking leant up and kissed Booker’s cheek in thanks. Her smile faltered as she pulled back, wondering if she’d overstepped, but to her relief Booker’s smile was bigger than ever.

“You missed.” He teased, his eyes bright.

“Oh?” Nile raised an eyebrow. “I thought that’s how you Europeans did it.”

“You’re not European.” He reminded her.

“No, I’m not.” She agreed, and leant in again. This time she brushed her lips against his, lingering for just longer than a second before drawing back, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. Booker’s hair had fallen into his eyes, and she gently swept it back from his forehead. She wanted to kiss him again, to kiss him _properly_ , but just as she was preparing to do so he straightened up and away from her.

“Kids incoming on your 6.” He warned her, and sure enough a moment later she heard the tell-tale patter of short legs on tiles running in their direction.

“Later.” He said, his voice laden with promise, already turning to his sons.

“Later.” Nile agreed, absent-mindedly reaching up to touch one of her new earrings. She suddenly felt vindicated for the butterflies she’d had during the morning: this was the best first not-a-date she’d had in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: it’s time for the rapids, and to find out what happened to Joe’s drawing of Nile...
> 
> And jeezus christus but writing kids is Hard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's got it all: water parks, serious conversations, light hearted conversations, setting a bad example to kids, setting a good example to kids.

Booker stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the “ring” icon by Nile’s name. The kids were safely tucked away in bed, and after distracting himself for half an hour by tidying up the general detritus generated by his children he was finally alone with his thoughts.

” _Remember to breathe_.” his therapist’s voice echoed in his mind. Yes. Breathing was good. Needed.

He pressed the button.

Nile picked up almost instantly.

“Hey Book.” She said. “How’s it going?”

“Alright. Kids are in bed, finally. How’s things your end?”

“Good, thanks.” She replied.

There was an awkward silence where the weight of what was to come hung in the air, the tension almost audibly crackling through the phone.

“So. You kissed me, huh?” Booker said. Nile laughed.

“Is this where you ask me if I meant it? Because I did. No regrets.”

“That’s a relief.” Booker admitted. Part of him had been convinced that Nile would turn around and apologise, that she’d say it had been a mistake.

“No regrets from you either then?” Nile asked him.

“No, no. God no. Wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too.” Nile said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “What happens now?” She added after a beat.

“I don’t know.” Booker said truthfully. “If it were any other time I’d ask you out for a drink, cook you dinner, that sort of thing, but…”

“Kinda hard with three little ones running about the place?”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Nile said carefully, “We can just carry on as normal while the kids are here, then do something more official afterwards.”

“Carry on as normal.” Booker repeated.

“As normal, but with more kissing. The _new_ normal.” Nile snorted. “But not in front of the kids. I know it’s much too soon for any of that.”

“Thanks.” Booker said gratefully. As much as he wanted to sweep Nile off her feet and take her on date after wonderful date, he didn’t want to introduce her as anything more than a friend to his sons unless he was completely certain. That Nile understood that, that she was the one to bring it up, only made Booker’s respect for her stronger.

“I’ve been wondering… why don’t you move up to Scotland? To be with them?” Nile asked. She sounded pained, as though there was something else she wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the words.

Booker took a deep breath. “Right now I know it’s not right. I’m still healing, still learning how to be the dad they deserve, and I’m not sure I’m ready for what such a move will involve. But who knows, in one year, maybe two, I may be better placed to move.” He swallowed, knowing what he had to say, and yet unwilling to do so. “If you don’t want to commit to anything knowing that I may only be here for a year or so, I’ll understand.”

To his surprise Nile laughed, then sniffed, as though she were trying to hold back tears.

“Book- Sebastien. All I’m hearing is that I have one year to make you fall so madly in love with me that you’ll take me up to Scotland with you when you eventually go.”

Booker’s heart thudded in his ears, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“We haven’t even had a proper date yet.” He said.

“Well then.” Nile said. “You’d best organise one.”

*****

Nile hadn’t been swimming in an age. She felt almost as excited as the children as she changed into her costume and wound her braids into a bun and pinned it tightly in place (she hated the feeling of wet hair against her back). She took a moment to ready herself inside the cubicle, overly conscious that she and Booker had barely kissed and yet she was going to be spending a whole afternoon with him wearing swimming trunks. Which was fine, she told herself. She’d been swimming with male friends plenty of times and never thought twice about it. And yet she’d thought about Booker topless, water running down his chest more than twice. Several times in fact. Nicky had not helped.

“Booker,” he had told her that morning, “Prefers speedos over swimming trunks. Tiny things. Decorated with the French flag and the fleur de lis.”

Nile regretted ever jokingly telling Nicky that the diving was her favourite event at the Olympics.

To her immense relief Booker came out of the changing rooms wearing a totally inoffensive pair of grey trunks, and yes, he was in decent shape for a man who until a year ago had lived entirely off whiskey and doritos, but she was an adult, and she could keep her eyes on his face. She didn’t fail to notice that _his_ eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe before he too forced himself to keep his gaze above shoulder height.

“Shall we go?” he asked her, but she was cut off from replying by Gabriel and Jean-Pierre enthusiastically cheering.

“I guess so.” She laughed, allowing an inflatable-wearing Jean-Pierre to take her hand and lead her down to the pool.

They paddled for a while in the shallow end, Booker anxiously checking that all of his children could actually swim before letting them venture out to the deeper end, where a wave machine was slowly churning the water. When the waves were exhausted they turned to the slides, then to the hot tubs, back to the wave machine, then finally making their way up to the start of the rapids.

They paused by a sign at the top that declared: “You must be THIS high to ride the rapids.” Jean-Pierre was most definitely below the line. Gabriel attempted to lift him up above the line, but the attendant on duty patiently explained to him that that wasn’t how things worked.

“Awwww.” Jean-Pierre pouted, stamping his feet and leaving dozens of tiny wet footprints on the floor.

“Maybe next year, when you’re a little bit taller.” The attendant said with a smile.

“What if I stretch?” Jean-Pierre asked, doing his best to stand as upright at possible. The attendant shook her head.

“I’ll watch him while you take the others.” Nile offered to Booker. “We can go on the slides again instead.” She added, trying to console Jean-Pierre.

“I’ll take him.” Booker said. “I don’t want to come between you and the rapids.”

“Yeah, Nile, come with us on the rapids!” Gabriel said eagerly. “I’ll race you!”

“No racing.” The attendant interjected.

“I _won’t_ race you.” Gabriel amended, winking heavily and with a complete lack of subtlety.

“Can we just goooo?” Leon urged, uncharacteristically excited.

“Go.” Booker said, his eyes creasing as he smiled at them all. “We’ll see you at the bottom.”

He took Jean-Pierre’s hand and led him back down the stairs, leaving Nile with the two older boys.

“Rapids!” Gabriel cheered, running off towards the starting pool where the current was little more than a gentle pull before suddenly plunging into a rushing water slide.

“Feet first!” Nile reminded him as she and Leon followed.

Normally, Nile loved the rapids. Doing the rapids whilst trying to keep tabs on two children though... that was more than a little stressful. Leon was alright: he was a competent swimmer who made sure to avoid the others and who waited for Nile before every big drop. Gabriel on the other hand was a menace, throwing himself down every drop without a second glance, ducking under water for far longer than was necessary and frequently losing himself in amongst the other swimmers. Nile suffered several near-heart attacks as she tried to keep him in her sight as they rode the currents down.

When they finally reached the bottom and both boys cheered to go again, Nile exchanged a weary look with Booker. She wasn’t sure she could take that level of tension again so soon.

“Too much?” He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“A little.” She admitted.

“I’ll take this one then.” He nudged Jean-Pierre to go over and stand next to her, then raced Gabriel and Leon up the stairs back to the start.

The afternoon passed in much the same way, Nile and Booker taking it turns on rapid duty until all three boys were well and truly exhausted. Nile herself was much more tired than she’d thought she’d be: she was quickly learning that looking after three excitable children was a surefire way to wear oneself out.

“I need a big meal and a nap.” She laughed to Booker as they reconvened outside of the water park.

“Well, I can’t help with the nap but I _have_ made a ridiculously large casserole that I doubt these guys will be able to finish.” Booker said, his voice hopeful.

“Mmm, what sort of casserole?” Nile asked.

“Sausage and bean. It’s Leon’s favourite.”

Nile’s stomach rumbled and she snorted. “I guess that answers that.”

Dinner was a surprisingly sedate affair given the energy Nile had become accustomed to, but all three boys looked shattered after their day at the pool. Jean-Pierre almost fell asleep at the table, and Booker had to carry him to his bedroom. It wasn’t much longer after that that all three boys were tucked away in bed, and Nile and Booker was sat on the sofa sharing the remains of a bottle of wine.

“I’m exhausted, but I had fun.” Nile assessed as she stretched out on the sofa. Her entire body was gently aching, but it was a good ache.

“Even trying to keep watch of Gabriel on the rapids?” Booker teased.

“Everything but that.” Nile amended. “That kid has no sense of self-preservation! I thought I was going to have to drag him out of there so many times.”

Booker laughed. “He’s always been like that. He’s just started playing ice hockey, you know, and he seems horribly well suited to it.”

Nile nodded in agreement: the thought of Gabriel playing ice hockey was remarkably easy to picture.

“I’m glad you came along.” Booker said, his voice quiet.

“To the water park, or to here?” Nile asked, smiling slightly.

“Both.” Booker replied. He had leant in slightly, Nile realised, and she shifted along the sofa a little until she was mere inches away from him. She pre-emptively set her wine glass down.

“You know, Nicky told me you’d be wearing speedos.” She said, and Booker rolled his eyes before smirking.

“Relieved? Or disappointed?”

“A little of both.” Nile said softly, leaning in towards him.

Her eyes darted down towards his mouth, then back up to his eyes, her lips parting slightly in invitation. Booker reacted just as she’d hoped he would, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head and pull her in towards him for a kiss. His mouth was warm against hers, and Nile sighed contentedly as their lips slid together, moving in harmony. He kissed her gently, sweetly, fingers tracing the lines of her braids from her forehead to the nape of her neck as he angled his head in response to her own movements. Nile wanted more.

She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and worried it ever so slightly, soothing it with her tongue before parting her lips and inviting Booker into her mouth. He responded instantly, his fingers moving from her hair to clutch at her waist, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer to him. She let him guide her until she was sat on his lap, and she took his face between her hands to tilt his head up to meet her kisses as they grew in passion.

She rocked against him slightly, and could feel the hard evidence of the effect she had on him press against her thigh. The thought made her somewhat giddy. _She_ had done this to him. She rocked again, harder, causing them both to moan slightly into each other’s mouths.

Booker’s fingers tightened on her hips, and for a moment she thought he would bring her closer to him still, but instead he halted her movements.

“Nile, chère, believe me I would like nothing more than to carry you to my bed right now, but I wish to make you sing and I do not want the children to overhear.”

Booker’s accent, normally so slight, was decidedly more pronounced, and Nile almost laughed at how even though his words told her to stop, his _voice_ was only making her want to go all the more.

“Make me sing, huh?” She said, scooting back slightly on Booker’s lap and relieving the pressure that had been building between them.

“Perhaps not literally.” He laughed softly, reaching up to gently cup her face.

“I’ll hold you to that promise.” Nile whispered, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Booker’s lips. “Once the kids are gone.”

She climbed off his lap, but remained curled to his side as she settled back on the sofa. The rest of the evening passed in a medley of wine and kisses, of whispered words and promises of more.

*****

The week was flying by. Booker felt as though it had only been yesterday that he’d picked the children up from the station, and yet here they were, over half a week into the visit and _everything_ seemed to have happened in such a short period of time. He felt a twinge of sadness that in another couple of days his sons would be gone again, and pushed it out of his thoughts with practised ease. _Don’t dwell on the past. Don’t worry about the future. Enjoy what you have now_.

What he had _now_ were three young sons currently running loose at Joe’s open gallery night, which was looking to be a much fancier affair than Booker had been expecting. He’d thought it would be a relatively casual event at Joe’s tattoo parlour, where he’d be able to finally introduce Andy and Quynh to the boys and perhaps find a nice picture to hang in his shop. He hadn’t expected dozens of _extremely_ arty types wandering around a transformed shop, actually taking the time to discuss and ponder the art on display instead of just picking a picture they liked on a whim.

“Papa, Joe drew me a fish!” Jean-Pierre announced, emerging from the crowd and holding up a piece of paper for Booker to see. “I’m gonna make him draw me another.”

“Don’t bother him too much.” Booker warned, aware that there were several important looking people who all seemed to be desperate to talk to his friend.

“Oh I don’t mind.” Joe said amicably. “It’s nice to find someone who _truly_ appreciates my fish-drawing skills. Nicky just isn’t that impressed by them, no matter how big I draw the fish.”

“Hey.” Nicky’s voice protested mildly from where he was hidden in the crowd. He had been keeping an eye on Leon along with Nile, and Gabriel was… Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. Booker wasn’t overly worried. He’d show up at some point.

With all his children safely occupied Booker had a nose along the walls, scanning the various artworks. There were a few he liked, and one impressive silhouette of a skyline cut of book pages that would go particularly well in his shop, but he forgot them all when he reached the picture of Nile.

“That’s-“ Booker looked up at the framed painting in awe. The base was Joe’s classic style, all black ink and cross-hatched shading, but the tablecloth Nile had been wearing while she had been modelling had been re-imagined as robes of gold. Joe had added patches of gold foil and highlighted certain lines with a gold pen, and the effect was stunning.

“That’s-?” Joe appeared by Booker’s elbow, a teasing tone to his voice.

“It’s amazing.” Booker said honestly. Joe was an incredibly gifted artist, and Nile was, well, Nile. Joe had managed to capture both the softness of her smile and the steel of her stance in a way that made him wonder why no one had thought to draw her before. It was perfect.

“How much?” Booker asked. He just couldn’t risk anyone else buying it.

“Ah, well, it’s actually already sold.” Joe said with an apologetic shrug.

“Oh.” Booker said. He hoped he didn’t sound too dejected. It was just a picture. It wasn’t like some random person had actually _bought_ Nile. Come to think of it, maybe Nile herself had bought it. He knew her mother’s birthday was coming up, after all.

“Who bought it?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Confidential I’m afraid.” Joe winked.

Booker had no idea if that was a good or bad wink. He didn’t have much time to ponder it, for at that moment Gabriel jumped out from behind the counter into an action stance, an elastic band looped between thumb and forefinger and a paper ball held in place. Before Booker could warn him he let the ball loose, and it flew across the room and hit him square in the chest. Gabriel whooped and disappeared back behind the counter. Out of the corner of his eye Booker distinctly saw Quynh give his son an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Quynh.” Booker hoped he didn’t sound as exasperated as he felt. “Have you been teaching my children how to make greater nuisances of themselves?”

“No.” Quynh replied smoothly, smiling into her glass. “Not all of them, just one. He’s going to be a pizza king, he tells me, and a king must be able to defend his land.”

“If he breaks any of these glasses I’m sending the bill to you.” Booker told her. Quynh laughed.

“Darling, these are _my_ glasses.”

The rest of the evening passed much better than Booker’s own opening had. Perhaps it was having his children around, or the secret smiles he and Nile shared across the room, but for once Booker felt almost at ease in such a large crowd of people. His sons, thankfully, were also enjoying themselves: Booker had worried that they’d get bored.

“My sons are becoming savages.” Booker remarked mournfully to Nile as he watched Leon, the one child he had faith in, pick up an elastic band to join Gabriel and Quynh’s standoff. Nile laughed as she watched their fight escalate.

“Ah, just like their father.” She said.

“Hey.” Booker nudged her gently with his elbow.

“You doing alright?” Nile asked him. It was a simple question, but there was a weight and warmth behind it.

“I am, actually.” He laughed softly. “But thanks for checking in.”

“Good.” Nile grinned. She brushed her fingers against his, barely a touch, but enough. Enough for now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker enjoys a moment of peace watching the football, before the emotions hit hard and he has to finally say goodbye to his sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOF I suddenly had a lot of work to do this week and this chapter took me much longer to write than expected. Bit Booker centric this one, but the romance (and the er, smut) is going to hit HARD again next chapter, so be prepared.

Booker was woken at 7am by breakfast in bed. Or at least, what his sons had decided should constitute breakfast in bed. Gabriel had made him a coffee, but had been rather enthusiastic with the pouring of both the coffee granules and the milk, and the resulting drink was a mug of strong, bitter milk. Booker took one sip and promptly decided to utilise all of his acting skills to “drink” the rest.

The toast had fared better: Leon had made that, and though it was firmly on the “burnt” side of things there was enough jam on it that Booker didn’t much care. Jean-Pierre’s contribution was a handful of grapes he’d pulled out of the fruit bowl and used to decorate the plate.

“Is it alright?” Leon asked expectantly. All three boys were lined up by Booker’s bed, watching him eat. It would be creepy if he didn’t love them so damned much.

“It’s wonderful, thank you.” Booker lied. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“We had cereal.” Leon said, and Booker breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been worried for a moment that they’d all eaten carbonised toast.

“We’re out of cocopops now.” Gabriel added. Of course they were.

“What’s the occasion?” Booker asked them as he took a pretend sip of coffee, making sure to put the mug down on the side of his bed furthest away from the children.

“You always make us breakfast.” Leon said, shrugging, as if it was obvious.

The saddest thing about watching his sons grow up away from him, Booker thought, was that they were all clearly growing up to be wonderful boys _without_ him. Would they be the same if he was there for them more often? He took a large gulp of the horrible coffee to distract himself from that line of thinking: it wouldn’t do to go down that path. Not again.

Thankfully, the boys left him to finish off breakfast on his own, and Booker took the opportunity to pour the frightening excuse for coffee down the sink and make himself a more palatable cup.

The big plan for that day was set to be the football: Joe had picked up tickets for the family zone, and Booker had the whole morning to try and convince Jean-Pierre to wear the necessary number of layers to shield him from the freezing cold they would undoubtedly be exposed to. Jean-Pierre didn’t like being constricted, and tended to “lose” his hat, gloves, and large puffy jacket whenever Booker’s attention was elsewhere. Eventually Booker managed to coerce him into keeping the jacket on, and he slipped the woolly hat and gloves into his own pockets with the intention of foisting them on his youngest the second they were seated at the stadium.

They met Joe outside the stadium, and though Jean-Pierre expressed disappointment that Nile wasn’t going to be joining them Joe didn’t seem to mind being second best. He readily admitted that he was a poor replacement for Nile, but given that she still insisted on calling it "soccer" he would have to do.

“No Nicky?” Booker asked him as they queued at the turnstiles. He had sort of assumed that the two came as a pair now.

“He says the only thing worse than watching one English team play football is watching two.” Joe said with a laugh. “But how about you guys?” Joe asked, turning to the kids. “Let me guess, Celtic fans?”

Gabriel nodded furiously. Leon grimaced.

“I support Marseille.” He said, and Booker’s heart was suddenly flooded with warmth. He hadn’t known that. He was surprised that Leon even remembered that that was his home team.

“Marseille, huh?” Joe nodded. “Must be kind of hard to follow a French team.”

“I have the internet.” Leon dismissed Joe’s concerns with a wave of his hand.

“So modern.” Joe laughed.

They made their way inside the stadium, and joined the queue to buy drinks. Booker and Joe normally enjoyed football best with beers in their hands, but with the children about (and seated in the family zone at that) they opted for something softer instead. Booker was surprised when Leon decided to queue separately, insisting that he would buy his own drink.

“One lemonade, and one tea please.” Leon asked sombrely when he reached the counter.

“Milk? Sugar?” the man behind the counter asked. Leon surprised Booker further by turning to look at Joe.

“Just milk please.” Joe smiled.

“Just milk.” Leon repeated. He dug into his pocket and counted out the change, placing the coins on the counter one by one.

“Joe. Are you getting a ten year old to buy your drink for you?” Booker tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

“I did try to say no.” Joe said. “But he was quite insistent.”

“Right. Why?”

“I owe Joe.” Leon said simply, carefully taking the tea down from the counter and handing it to Joe before taking his own lemonade.

“Adults buy each other drinks, Book, and Leon here’s starting high school next year.” Joe said seriously, taking a sip from his tea. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” He added to Leon, reaching out to firmly shake his hand.

“What business?” Booker pushed. There was something incredibly suspicious about the whole thing.

“Oh look, free flags.” Joe said suddenly, in a horrible act of innocence. “Tell you what Booker, I’ll take these guys to get some flags and you can sort their drinks out. See you at the seats.”

Booker didn’t even have time to protest as Joe led his children off towards the man handing out flimsy paper flags. Well. He’d probably find out sooner or later. Maybe Leon had got Joe to draw him something the other night, and wanted to pay him for it. Bless him.

He bought the drinks and made his way to the seats, making sure they were sat so that the children were sandwiched between himself and Joe. They may have been in the family zone, but Booker still didn’t trust the average football fan enough to be sat next to any of his children. Actually no, _really_ he was more concerned about what a nuisance Gabriel would make of himself if sat next to a stranger. Thankfully, Gabriel was sat right in their middle of their little group, as far away from trouble as he could be. He hoped, at least.

The players trooped out onto the pitch and the crowd cheered, and Booker took advantage of Jean-Pierre’s distraction to jam his woolly hat firmly onto his head. His son didn’t even protest, fully occupied with waving a flag in each hand. Annoyingly, that meant the gloves weren’t going to go on anytime soon, but Booker counted the hat as a victory nonetheless.

_This_ Booker thought wistfully as the whistle blew and the game commenced, was one of the things he regretted not being able to do with his sons more often. All three boys enjoyed football, and it was a wonderful sort of family bonding. Leon became engrossed in the detail of the game and asked Booker and Joe for stats and rules and predictions. Jean-Pierre waved his flags and forgot which team to cheer for. Gabriel perhaps stood on his seat more than was acceptable but his enthusiasm for the game was infectious, and the five of them cheered and groaned in perfect harmony as the game went on.

All too soon the match was over, and their little group made their way out of the stadium to the bus station. Joe was giving Gabriel a piggy-back, and Booker enjoyed the novelty of actually having a clear view of Gabriel at all times. It was impossible for him to run off when he was on Joe’s shoulders.

“Is Joe coming for dinner like Nile did?” Jean-Pierre asked once they reached the bus stop. Joe raised an eyebrow at Booker, a grin on his face.

“Oh ho.” Was all he said.

Booker resisted the urge to groan. He suspected that Nile would have already told Nicky everything that had happened between them, but by the expression on Joe’s face Nicky hadn’t passed that information on. Booker almost wished that he had, for then he wouldn’t have to deal with Joe’s knowing expression.

“I don’t think we have quite enough food for Joe.” Booker told Jean-Pierre, whilst giving Joe a look that he hoped said “please don’t ask me about this _now_.”

“Aw.” Jean-Pierre pouted. He got attached to people remarkably quickly.

“It’s alright, I have a dinner date anyways.” Joe grinned. “Thanks for the afternoon, boys, it was great.”

“Bye.” Jean-Pierre and Leon chorused as Joe turned to walk away. Booker coughed pointedly.

“Joe. If you could put Gabriel down before you leave I’d appreciate it.”

Joe sighed, and looked up at where Gabriel was grinning down at him. “I told you it wouldn’t work.” He said seriously, swinging Gabriel back down to the ground. Gabriel cackled. Booker despaired.

*****

Nile had a heavy heart when she arrived at work on Monday morning: Booker’s kids were due to be picked up by their mum at lunch time, and as much as she would miss them she knew how badly it would affect Booker, and the worry weighed heavy on her shoulders. She planned to go around to his shop in the afternoon, bring him a cake and a drink in an attempt to pick him up. She remembered how incredibly hollow she felt whenever her mum went back to America after a visit, and knew that the worst thing for Booker would be to be alone with his thoughts. She’d treat them both to takeaway, she thought, as she figured neither of them would be up to cooking. Maybe she could find a ridiculous comedy to watch on Netflix to really distract him.

“Got the blues?” Nicky asked her gently as she slipped her apron on.

“A bit.” She sighed. “Not so much for me, but for Booker.”

“Ah.” Nicky nodded. “It’s rough. But at least he’s got you now, no?”

“We haven’t even been on a date yet.” Nile forced a laugh. Nicky rolled his eyes.

“The museum, the water park, Joe’s gallery night, that time you went round to his and texted me at 11 when I _know_ for a fact that’s past your bedtime... Many half-dates make a whole.”

“Is that an old Italian saying?” Nile teased, though he was right, in a way. It truly felt like she and Booker were dating, without the actual dates.

“Yes. I’m an old Italian and I’m saying it.”

“Don’t let Andy catch you calling yourself old, she’d throw a fit.” Nile warned him, and Nicky snorted in acknowledgement.

“By the way, Joe figured you’d be seeing the kids before they left and asked if you could give this to Leon.” Nicky vanished into the storeroom and came back a second later, a large, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper in his hands.

“It’s another fish drawing, isn’t it?” Nile laughed as she took the parcel.

“I can’t say.” Nicky said. “Sworn to secrecy.”

“I’m intrigued. I was going to pop over to Booker’s in a bit, so I’ll hand it over then.” Nile carefully leant the parcel up against the wall.

“Perfect.” Nicky smiled at her, then vanished back to his work.

Nile busied herself sorting out the orders for that day’s delivery, and was preparing to start the food prep for the lunch rush when the bell above the door tinkled, and Leon came in, alone.

“Hey.” Nile grinned at him. “I’ve got something for you from Joe.”

“Oh, thanks.” Leon replied glumly. He looked one step away from crying, and Nile hurried over as soon as she realised.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, “Where’s Boo- your dad?”

“In his shop.” Leon sniffed. “But I wanted to say goodbye to you before mum came.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.” Nile knelt down and opened her arms, letting Leon walk into the hug. “I _was_ going to drop by and see you all off, but it’s very nice that you came to see me.”

Leon clung tightly to her as she hugged him, and as his body started to heave with suppressed sobs she began to think there was more to his visit than just saying goodbye. She caught Nicky’s eye over her shoulder, and shook her head slightly in response to his raised eyebrow.

“C’mon, let’s go and sit down properly and you can tell me what the matter is, hmm?” Nile led Leon through to the storeroom, and sat him down on an upturned crate.

“I don’t want to go back.” Leon said as soon as the door closed, his voice thick with his tears. “I don’t want to go back to Scotland, and I don’t want to leave Papa, and I don’t want to go to high school.”

“Oh, baby.” Nile murmured, rooting around on the shelves and retrieving a box of paper towels. They were heavy duty, used for wiping up sizable spills, but she figured they would do just as well for crying children. She handed Leon a square and he blew his nose loudly.

“Mum says we can’t live with Papa, not really, but what if I lived with you? Then I could see him whenever I wanted.” he looked at her, his eyes shining with tears. He looked so earnest that it nearly broke Nile’s heart.

“You know, your papa would love it if you stayed with him more often, you know that right?” Nile said, unsure how to break it to Leon that no, sadly he couldn’t come and live with her.

“I know.” Leon said. “But, but if he wants us to live with him, why can’t we?”

“I don’t know, baby. But it won’t be forever, I know that much. Have you told your parents how you feel?”

Leon shook his head.

“Well, I think the thing to do is to tell them. I could even talk to them if you like?” Nile offered. She wasn’t sure what she could really achieve. Whatever Booker and his ex-wife had worked out between them had clearly been the best cause of action at the time of the split, but even if things had changed now she didn’t think it was her place to tell them that it was wrong. But if Leon was this upset about going home, about leaving his dad, that had to count for something, surely?

“I don’t want to make a fuss.” Leon’s voice was small.

“Oh honey, it wouldn’t be a fuss at all. They’re your parents, they want to know if you’re unhappy. Maybe if you tell your mum you miss your dad she’ll let you come down and see him more? Or I’m sure Booker would love to go and visit you guys in Scotland more regularly.”

Leon nodded mutely. Nile gave him another hug.

“Tell you what, let’s go back to your papa, you can tell him how you feel, then he and your mum can have an adult conversation. And if you ever miss your dad this much again, you just let me know and I’ll make sure to put him on the first train to Scotland myself. Does that sound like a plan?”

Leon nodded again, and Nile stood up, forcing a smile onto her face.

“Come on then. I’ll give you one of Nicky’s biscotti, but you’ll have to eat it quickly so that your brothers don’t see.”

“Ok.” Leon tried to match her smile, and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. He followed her out of the storeroom, and after two biscotti (because really, the boy needed two), he let Nile lead him down the road to Booker’s shop.

“There you are.” Booker looked relieved when they arrived. “I thought you’d just be gone a minute. Wait, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go home.” Leon sniffed, the tears already starting to fall again, and he ran forward to bury his face into Booker’s jeans. Booker wrapped his arms around him automatically, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he gave Nile a questioning look.

“He’ll explain.” Nile said quietly. “I’ll just take the other two next door until you’re done, yeah?”

“Thank you.” Booker said, and Nile left him whispering calming words into Leon’s ear as she took the two younger boys into the room at the back of the shop.

*****

Booker’s heart broke as Leon explained why he was crying, and it was all he could do to stop from tearing up himself. He sat on the floor and held Leon until the boy ran out of tears, until his sobs turned into occasional tremors that shook his whole body. All the while he tried to think what on earth he would say to Marie when she arrived to pick the boys up: it was clear that they needed to talk.

“I nearly forgot.” Leon said miserably after a while. “I got you a present.”

“A present?” Booker repeated in surprise.

Leon pushed away from him and went to pick up the parcel Nile had left by the front door when they had come in. He handed it to Booker then sat back down on the floor opposite him, watching with intense eyes as Booker tore through the wrapping paper.

Inside was a painting. _The_ painting. The one where Nile was sketched out in black and gold, the simple sleek lines suggesting movement that made it look as though Nile were ready to twirl off the paper and into his arms. Booker’s heart broke all over again.

“I wanted to get you a present from Joe’s gallery and he said you’d like this.” Leon said.

“Mon chéri.” Booker carefully placed the drawing to one side and hugged Leon. “That’s so incredibly thoughtful of you. I do like it, very much.”

Leon sniffed, and Booker got the distinct impression that Leon was wiping his nose on his jacket. He didn’t mind.

“Is this why you bought Joe a cup of tea with your own money?” Booker asked, and Leon nodded against him. Booker could picture just how that went down: Leon, all of ten years old, solemnly asking Joe to buy a piece of art, and Joe equally seriously bartering against himself to work Leon down to a price that was manageable for a child, while still making him feel like he hadn’t been given it for free.

“You’re a very kind boy.” Booker told him seriously. “You didn’t have to get me anything at all.”

“I know. But I… I wanted to get you something so you’d remember us when we’re gone.”

Jesus. Booker had occasionally had object permanence issues, but that was more to do with important piles of letters than his _children_. He couldn't believe Leon thought he might forget them when they were gone.

“Shall I show you something?” Booker asked, digging into his pocket for his phone. He unlocked it and showed the home screen to Leon. “Look, you and your brothers. Every time I open my phone I can look at your faces and remember what wonderful boys I have. I don’t stop loving you when you’re in Scotland. I could never stop loving you.”

“Oh.” Leon said simply, looking like he was ready to burst into tears all over again.

“Look, I’ll talk to mum when she gets here. We’ll figure out a way where I can see you more often. Is that good?”

Leon nodded.

“Good.” Booker smiled, then ruffled Leon’s hair. “Now go and tell Nile that it’s safe to come out.”

Booker kept his phone out as Leon ran off, already scrolling through his contacts to ring Marie. She picked up on the first ring.

“What’s happened?” she asked, in a tone that suggested she’d assumed that one, if not all of the boys, had managed to forget something important back at his house that would delay their departure.

“Do you think you could catch a later train back?” Booker asked. “We need to talk, and it’s best if we do that in person.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adult conversations happen. Certain adult... activities happen. Quynh wants to organise a triple date. Booker just wants to organise one single date with Nile so they can finally have some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: things get E rated around halfway.

Nile had been on edge ever since she left Booker’s shop, and showed no signs of being able to calm down anytime soon.

“You’re pacing.” Nicky told her kindly.

“I’m not.” Nile said. “I’m watering the plants.”

“The same plants. Many many times.”

“They’re thirsty.”

“They’re drowning.”

Nile groaned: Nicky was right. The plants she had been watering looked like they’d been caught in a monsoon, the plant pots they stood in resembling swamp more than soil.

“Sorry.” She grimaced.

“It’s alright,” Nicky said, “They can cope with the occasional soak. Keeps them on their toes.” He looked at her in concern. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I _want_ to go along to Booker’s and press my ear to the keyhole to try and work out what’s going on. I just... earlier, he said that once he was in a better place he might move up to Scotland to be nearer his kids, but that was before. Now he knows how much Leon misses him I think he might... I just don’t want to lose him, Nicky. Not now, not when we’re right on the edge of something.”

“You should move to Scotland with him.” An unexpected voice chimed in. Nile turned around to find that the pair of old ladies who had been previously studiously studying the rose selection had abandoned their browsing in favour of listening in to her conversation.

“Nonsense.” The other lady said. “Look at you! So young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it all away for the sake of one man.”

“It’s not throwing it away if it’s for _love_.” The first woman told her friend, before turning to Nile. “Is it? For love?”

“It’s er, rather soon for that I think.” Nile was flustered, and more than a little confused. “We haven’t even had a proper date yet.”

Neither of the two ladies seemed particularly satisfied with that answer, and they weren’t back to their browsing with a dismissive sniff.

“Third option,” Nicky said, narrowing his eyes at the backs of the two women, “You try not to worry about the future until you know what’s actually happening.”

“I know.” Nile moaned. “It’s the not knowing that really gets to me.”

Nicky gave her a sympathetic look, then his expression changed as he caught sight of something out of the window.

“Actually-” he started, but was cut off by Booker practically charging through the door.

“Marie’s moving.” Booker said, a ridiculously large smile on his face. “We talked it all out, and we asked how the kids felt, and she’s going to come back down here.”

“Really?!” Nile exclaimed, dropping the watering can she was holding to run over and hug him. “Book, that’s amazing! But why, when, what’s happening?”

“Well, she only moved to Scotland because of Malcolm’s job, and now they’ve separated there’s nothing _really_ keeping her there. We both agreed I should see the boys more often, and she’s willing to make the move so that I don’t have to.”

“That’s wonderful.” Nicky agreed, stepping forward to hug Booker once Nile stepped away.

“It is, I can’t… I can’t quite believe it’s happening, in all honesty.” Booker scrubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Ooof.” He couldn’t stop smiling, and Nile’s heart was singing.

“It will take a while, probably. Marie needs to ask her work if they’ll transfer her back here, and of course then she’s got to find a house and organise everything and all that stuff. If it all goes to plan, they’ll be able to move here before Leon starts high school.” He continued. “And in the meantime I’ll go up to Scotland a weekend a month, longer when it’s the holidays.”

“Brilliant.” Nile said, a grin on her face almost as big as Booker’s own.

“I should get back, I’ve left the shop unlocked, but thank you Nile. Really. Thank you for being there for Leon, and thank you for convincing him to talk to me.” Booker told Nile, and her smile grew even bigger.

“Of course.” She said, reaching forward to rub his arm comfortingly. “They’re good kids. And you’re a great dad.”

She could tell how much the words meant to him, and he nodded at her once, then waved goodbye to Nicky and legged it back out of the door.

“I’d move to Scotland for him.” One of the old women commented, and her friend nodded in agreement.

Nile laughed, her heart feeling ridiculously light, and the rest of the day flew by. When it came to closing up time, Nile filled a couple of bowls with leftover tiramisu and got permission from Nicky to take off early. She hurried down the street, wary of the pigeons that frequented the city and not wanting to have to fend them off from the tiramisu.

She had to kick open the door to Booker’s as her hands were full, and she _might_ have put a little too much force into it as the door swung open and hit the opposite wall with a crash. Booker looked up, and a small smile broke his melancholic expression.

“Sorry.” Nile grimaced. “Your hinges are better than I’d thought.”

“What can I say, I like a well-oiled door.” Booker deadpanned. His eyes were tired, the week of looking after the boys finally catching up to him, but there was still a shadow of a smile on his face that grew into a full one when he saw her.

Nile snorted. “And I thought you’d appreciate this tiramisu, but if you’d prefer I can take these away and come back to oil all the hinges.”

“Don’t you dare.” Booker gave a short, hollow laugh, but gestured for Nile to come into the shop properly.

She set the bowls down on his desk, then at Booker’s request got up to flip the sign on the shop door to “closed”. There was only one chair in the shop, and Booker was currently sat in it, so Nile perched herself on the edge of his desk to pick up her own bowl.

“I _had_ planned to do this anyway, thinking you might need a pick-me-up, or a distraction, but I think we can now safely treat this as a celebration.” She said. “Cheers.” She held up her bowl, and Booker laughed, clinking his own bowl with hers.

“I’m still in shock, really.” Booker said as he took a mouthful of tiramisu. “I had never dreamt that it could all work out so well.”

“It’s brilliant.” Nile agreed. “Does Marie really not mind moving again?”

Booker shook his head. “I don’t think she ever really settled in Scotland. Her parents don’t live far from here, and I think she found it hard to really connect with people up there given that she spent most of her time either at work or looking after the children. If she comes down here, I can help look after the boys and she can have a life again.”

“That’s all turned out incredibly well.” Nile said. “I’m so happy for you, Book.”

She set her bowl on the desk and leant down to kiss Booker. She had meant it just to be a brief kiss, a comforting kiss, but she could tell straight away that Booker wanted more. Nile wasn’t about to deny him: after all, she _had_ come over with the intention of distracting him, and kissing was certainly a distraction. She scooted closer to the edge of the table, perched dangerously as she craned her neck down to kiss him properly.

He tasted of cream and rum, a mirror to herself she supposed, but even without the tiramisu she would have thought that kiss the sweetest she had ever tasted. She had been worried, so worried for a moment that she would never truly get the chance give her and Booker a go, that she would have to live the rest of her life wondering if he had been The One, and she’d missed him. But now she had him. Booker wasn’t leaving, and they were alone at last, and perhaps finally, _finally_ , they could have that date of theirs.

“Shall we... go someplace else?” Nile asked breathlessly. Her entire body felt tense, pulled taught by the ache, by the _want_ that had been growing inside her ever since that simple kiss at the art gallery. She wanted to get her hands on Booker, wanted him to get his hands on _her_ , and she couldn’t wait.

Thankfully, neither could Booker.

“No windows in the LGBT section.” He said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Perfect.” Nile breathed. She climbed off Booker’s lap and headed into the other room, Booker hot on her heels. As soon as the door shut behind them she was on him, tugging him towards her and angling her head up to meet his mouth.

Bookers’ mouth was hot and sweet against hers, and one of his hands came up to cup the back of her head, fingers stroking through her braids as her lips moved against his. She didn’t mould her body to his so much as she pulled him tight towards her, backing herself up until she was wedged between him and a bookcase, and laughed when she hit the shelves with rather more force than she had intended. A couple of books fell over, and though Booker rolled his eyes at her he didn’t let up stroking her, kissing her.

She stroked her hands up his back, rucking his shirt up and digging into the muscles beneath. She slotted her legs between his and oh, if she’d needed further proof that he was enjoying it as much as she was, there it was. He laughed slightly against her lips, and moved his hands to her hips to pull her even closer. She couldn’t help but rub against his leg as they kissed, and as if sensing her growing desperation Booker’s hand dipped down between them, the palm of his hand coming up between her legs to rest against the source of her need.

“Alright?” He asked, pulling back from the kiss to look into her eyes. Nile was struck by his expression, how even though his pupils were blown with lust he was searching her own eyes for something, making sure this was _right_.

“Alright.” Nile swallowed. “Very, very alright.”

Booker increased the pressure of his hand ever so slightly, and Nile pushed down against it, a sigh of satisfaction slipping from her lips as she got a little of the friction she needed.

All too soon it was gone, cruelly ripped away from her, but it was only so that Booker could quickly undo the button and zipper of her jeans. His hand returned, slipping under the layers of fabric to rest directly against her. Nile’s hips bucked, and Booker chuckled, bending his head to press kisses along the line of her neck.

He moved slowly, his fingers exploring her at a leisurely pace, alternating between rubbing in tight circles that made Nile’s brain melt and dipping inside her, never staying for long in one place.

“Book, please, give me _something_.” Nile pleaded. She had never been shy in bed, having learnt pretty much from the get-go that men generally needed a little direction in making things work for her too. Booker, she soon learnt, was not one of those men.

He thrust two fingers inside her, keeping them still for a moment and letting her grind down on them, but then he flexed them _just so_ at the same time as rubbing his thumb against her, and Nile’s toes clenched in her trainers as an unexpected coil of pleasure ran through her.

“Oh.” She gasped.

Booker merely smirked and repeated the notion, and Nile clung onto his shoulders as tight as she could as he began to wring wave after wave of pleasure from her.

“Ready for more?” He asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper as he leant close to her ear. God, Nile had never been particularly turned on by accents before, but the fact that Booker’s got more pronounced when they were like this sent warm ripples of interest through her.

She could only nod in reply.

Quick as anything, Booker removed his fingers and wiped them on his shirt, before kneeling on the floor and rolling Nile’s jeans off her legs.

By “more”, Nile had expected Booker to join her in a level of undress, to produce a condom from somewhere and fuck her, but instead Booker stayed on his knees, looking reverently up at her.

When he leant in to press a kiss to the top of her mound, followed by a long lick through her folds, Nile honestly thought that her legs may give in. It was all she could do to stay upright as Booker lapped and sucked and goddamn _moaned_ between her legs.

His tongue was magic, switching between long flat licks and short sharp thrusts with increasing frequency until Nile began to lose track of everything but the sensation of Booker working away at her. When he slipped his fingers back inside and concentrated his mouth on her clit Nile began shaking, helplessly moving against his lips and fingers until she came with a strangled sigh. Her whole body seemed to contract, then went limp, and she disjointedly pushed Booker’s head away as the wonderful sensations turned into over-stimulation.

“Fuck.” She breathed, closing her eyes in an attempt to ground herself. “ _Fuck_.”

Booker chuckled, and when she opened her eyes again she saw him gazing up at her, a pleased smile on his face as he wiped his chin with his hand.

“Jesus, Book.” Nile exhaled loudly. “That was... great.” She finished lamely, unable to find the words.

Booker merely grinned. Nile struggled back into her jeans then sank to the floor next to him, leaning over to kiss him. She wrinkled her nose when their tongues met: he tasted of _her_ , but she pushed the thought away and kissed him with a passion, reaching out to cup him through his jeans.

Booker was hard, ridiculously hard, and he didn’t last long once she worked her hand under his jeans and wrapped her fingers around his length. The fact that he’d worked himself into that state while pleasuring her was unbelievably hot, and a shiver ran through Nile’s body. She could almost go again.

Instead, she untangled her hand from Booker’s trousers and rested against him, their breaths syncing up as they both came down from their high. Booker wrapped his arms around her, rubbing circles across her arms, across her chest, and Nile relaxed into him.

“We haven’t even had that date yet.” Nile laughed, still somewhat breathless.

“Dates are overrated.” Booker said.

“No they are not.” Nile poked him in the ribs. “I want to be wined and dined.” She teased.

“Mmm.” Booker agreed. “I think I can do that.”

*****

They had their first date two days later, a date that involved Booker frantically texting Nicky the morning before asking him if he knew what Nile’s favourite restaurant was. (He did. Nicky was a life saver).

They talked, and they ate, and they talked some more. They talked until the restaurant hit closing time and they were kindly asked to leave. They took a taxi back to Booker’s flat, and continued their conversation over wine. Booker already knew Nile, had known her for over a year, and yet he wanted to find out so much more about her. They found new common ground (they both liked pineapple on pizza) and they found new things to argue about (Nile was adamant that the Star Wars prequel films were enjoyable which was just… wrong). When they finally ran out of words they kissed, and when they ran out of kisses they slipped into bed to sleep. Booker struggled to remember when he’d last had a date that hadn’t ended in sex yet as he fell asleep to the sound of Nile’s light snores he decided he hadn’t felt this _close_ to someone in an age.

The next day they arrived at The Old Guard together, Nile kissing Booker on the cheek as she went to order the drinks to the delight of pretty much everyone in the pub.

“Oooh we could triple date now!” Quynh said excitedly as she brought the drinks over to the table. “It’s our proposal anniversary in a couple of weeks, you should all come alone with us.”

Booker rolled his eyes. “Who celebrates the anniversary of their _proposal_?”

“We do. Obviously.” Andy said, and Quynh nodded.

“First date, first _actual_ date, proposal, and wedding.” Quynh listed them off on her fingers. “It means there’s always something to look forward to.”

“Why the two first dates?” Joe asked, intrigued. Booker often forgot that Joe had only known them all for a couple of months, and though Joe had gathered that the two women had met playing roller derby he had very little idea of the drama behind that meeting.

“Well.” Quynh leant on the table, clearly readying herself to talk for a while. “Picture it, it’s 2010, and yours truly is captain of the most wonderful roller derby team called the Steel Stilettos...”

It was a story Booker had heard countless times before. He’d heard it first from Andy, when he’d first started hanging around The Old Guard, then again when he’d started hanging around Nicky, and then once again when Nile had joined their circle. Andy and Quynh told it differently each time, but Booker still let himself drift off as they talked and bickered with each other as they tried to tell Joe _their_ version of events.

Next to him, Nile snuggled into his side, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to bring his arm around to rest on her shoulder. After a hectic and emotional week, Booker felt like he could finally, truly rest.

*****

Booker hadn’t gone looking for flights. Not specifically, anyway. He had simply been browsing one of those websites that listed a number of daily deals when a particular bargain caught his eye, and without a second thought he had bought two tickets to France. Belatedly, he realised that Nile may well have coursework or assignments to work on and might not even want to take the time off, but he figured as a back-up Quynh at least would drop everything for a weekend in France.

He and Nile had been officially dating for almost a month now, and he hoped that that wasn’t too soon to take her on holiday. It had been so long since he and Marie had got together that he felt that he’d completely forgotten how fast or slow a normal relationship was supposed to move. _D_ _on’t over-think it_. His therapist had told him when he’d brought his worries up. _There’s no template for how things are supposed to go_.

Over-thinking was Booker’s speciality, and though he had initially wanted to wait for the right moment before asking Nile, perhaps over dinner, or a drink, he couldn’t cope with the waiting and made an early afternoon trip to the cafe.

“What are you up to next weekend?” Booker asked after he’d bought his coffee, trying hard to sound casual.

“A little of this, a little of that.” Nile said vaguely. “Work here, work at uni. Please tell me you’re about to make some plans with me, and didn’t just want to hear about my depressingly boring weekend?”

“Well, as it happens I found a good deal on a last minute flight to France. Fancy a weekend away?”

“France?” Nile’s mouth opened into a perfect ‘o’. “ _France_?! Yes, Book, of course! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” Booker waved his hands. “It was a deal, if I tell you how much it cost it will seem less like a treat.”

Nile snorted. “Well at least let me go halves on the hotel.”

“That was a deal as well. It’s November, it’s hardly tourist season.” Booker shrugged. He had been ludicrously lucky with the deals. He supposed most of the hotels were desperate for business in the months when the pools were out of use and the lavender fields were bare.

“Whereabouts in France? Paris?” Nile guessed.

“Paris is a shithole.” Booker told her honestly. “We’re going to Provence.”

Nile’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around his neck. “God, Book, that’s amazing. Thank you.”

Booker returned her embrace, twisting his head in order to press a kiss to the side of hers. In that moment, with Nile smiling and hugging him tightly, he felt like he’d do _anything_ to keep her smiling like that.

“So.” Nile said, pulling back. “What’s there to do in Provence in the off-season?”

Booker grinned, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his worn notebook, now full of lists of cafes and art galleries.

“A few things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to give Booker an orgasm this chapter. Whoops. Well, he wouldn't have minded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's holiday time for these guys oh yeahhhhh.

Booker had warned Nile that he hadn’t yet been on a flight that he hadn’t fallen asleep on, and yet she still wasn’t prepared for him to fall asleep barely a minute after their plane started taxiing. It was quite impressive, really, given that there were several children on their flight, a good proportion of which voiced their displeasure at being on a plane loudly and with great frequency. She supposed having three children meant that he’d got good at catching sleep whenever he could.

It was quite endearing really, having Booker practically dead to the world beside her, his head occasionally lolling towards her as if he wanted to rest on her shoulder, although they were too unevenly matched height-wise for him to succeed. She bundled up her jacket into a makeshift pillow and stuffed it between her shoulder and his head, and he seemed to sleep a little better after that.

She passed the time listening to podcasts for her degree, and making best use of the “one complimentary drink per passenger” rule by ordering (and subsequently drinking) a coffee for Booker. She made notes, and doodled, and considered doodling on the sleeping Booker but ultimately decided to restrain herself. She’d save that for the flight back.

He woke up when they landed, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he tried to re-orientate himself.

“That’s an impressive skill.” Nile laughed. “You’ll have to teach me how to do it.”

“Oh you can’t learn this.” Booker told her. “You have to be born with it. It’s my superpower.”

Though the tickets Booker had bought brought them into Marseille, he had decided to take her to Aix-en-Provence: it felt too soon to be taking her to stay in a city where his mother could show up to demand to be introduced at any time, he had said. Nile had laughed, but was silently thankful. The word Booker used most often to describe Elise le Livre was "formidable".

They took the shuttle bus out from the airport, and made a beeline for the hotel to dump their luggage before heading out for dinner. It was late, the evening dark and chilly, and yet the streets were alive with sound and light. It looked beautiful, Nile thought, like something out of a picture book. She pulled her jacket tighter around her and took Booker’s hand, his fingers wonderfully warm as they wrapped around hers.

“I thought the south of France was supposed to be warm.” She joked as they wove their way through the streets. “This restaurant better be inside.”

Booker laughed. “I told you to bring a warm coat.” He said.

“I did!” Nile protested. “I just… get cold easily.”

Booker snorted, but reached into his jacket and pulled out a scarf. He stopped walking, letting go of her hand in order to loop the scarf around her neck and tuck it into her jacket. Nile was stunned.

“How did you-”

“Last year, we were waiting at the taxi rank in the dead of night and you were _freezing_ because you forgot to bring a hat or a scarf out with you. You told me you somehow always forget them, no matter how many times it catches you out.” Booker said with a slight smile. Nile honestly felt like his words warmed her more than the scarf did.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” She said. “I swear you were blind drunk at the time.”

“I was.” Booker nodded. “But I still remembered.”

Nile grinned, and leant up on her toes to kiss Booker lightly on the lips. “You’ve done a dangerous thing, Book, you’ve set the standard far too high. You can never forget my birthday, or our anniversary, or anything ever again.”

Perhaps it was premature, talking about anniversaries, and for a second Nile regretted saying it, but Booker simply smiled and leant down to kiss her again.

"Never." he said, then: “Come on, I’m starving.”

*****

Nile was so full she could have sworn she was about to burst. She had shared a number of starters with Booker, wanting to sample everything he read to her from the menu, and then she’d devoured what she could have sworn was an entire chicken in a heavenly creamy sauce. It had all been so delicious, she hadn’t realised how much she’d eaten until it was all gone. She regretted absolutely nothing. 

“Dessert?” Booker asked her, a mischievous smile on his face. Nile groaned.

“My heart says yes but my stomach says no.” She said.

“Can you at least manage to help me finish off this wine?”

Nile sighed dramatically. “If it _must_ be done.”

Booker chuckled as he topped her glass up, and Nile stretched out contentedly. University work, the cafe… it all seemed like a far off world at that moment. She took a sip of her wine, then set it down, reaching across the table to take Booker’s hand.

“This is wonderful.” She said. “Magical, even. Thank you so much.”

Booker’s mouth twitched into a bashful smile.

“I’m glad.” He said. “I just wanted to treat you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, Nile. I can’t... I can’t quite put into words how you make me feel.” Booker’s eyes flickered down to the table, as though he were worried about her reaction. Nile’s heart fluttered, and she laughed lightly.

“You don’t have to.” She told him. “I know.”

It was true. She could tell by the way Booker looked at her when she talked about her family, in the way he would stay up all night just to bring her coffee and biscuits as she frantically tried to finish her essay. It was in the way he held her when she was at the lowest, in the way he felt comfortable enough to turn to _her_ when he felt the same.

“I love you.” He said softly, his thumb stroking over her hand. “I know I’m not the perfect man, but you make me want to try. I’ll try every day to grow to be the person you deserve.”

“Oh.” Nile almost choked. “And I thought you weren’t supposed to be good with words.” Her eyes felt wet, and she dabbed at them with her napkin. Her heart was full, and happy, and though she hadn’t thought it until that moment, as she met Booker’s eyes across the table she was suddenly certain.

“I love you too.” She said.

*****

They were on each other as soon as they made it back to the hotel. The walk back had helped bring Nile out of her post-dinner stupor and every inch of her felt wired, as though she was sparking with energy just waiting to be released. She fell into bed with Booker, their hands tangling together as they frantically tried to undress, an unspoken race to strip the other first that neither of them cared about once they were both laid bare.

They were familiar with each other’s bodies now, slotting together with ease as they touched and teased, until Nile could take it no more and she scrambled for the condoms she knew she’d purposefully left by the bed.

Booker made to sit up as she rolled the condom on, but Nile pushed him back down with a finger. He grinned as he lay beneath her, and Nile returned his smile before she sank down onto him. She took a moment to adjust once she was fully seated, then leant over until they were pressed chest to chest, and began to move her hips in slow, measured movements. She kissed Booker as she did so, as lazily as she thrust her hips, and even though she could tell Booker wanted more, wanted it _harder_ he lay back and let her take from him exactly what she wanted.

She trailed her lips across his jaw, pressing kisses as she went, until she nuzzled into the spot behind his ear before carefully taking his earlobe between her teeth and tugging. Booker let out a low groan and thrust up into her, and Nile gasped as the angle changed in the most delicious way.

She leant back, sitting upright, and started to circle her hips with more purpose. Booker’s hands came up to cup her breasts, to thumb at her nipples, and she covered his hands with her own, encouraging him. They moved together, Booker planting his feet firmly on the bed in order to thrust up into her, and when one of his hands trailed down her front to settle against her clit Nile threw her head back as she was pushed closer and closer still to the edge.

“Like that.” She managed to get out, her movements stuttering as she tried to chase the fluttering movements of Booker’s fingers. “Just a bit… a bit _more_.”

Booker obliged, and Nile closed her eyes as she let her orgasm wash over her, collapsing onto Booker’s chest when the sparks faded.

“Good?” Booker chuckled, his hips still lazily bucking up into her.

“Mmm.” Nile affirmed, slowly starting to meet his thrusts again. She rode him until he was spent, until they were reduced to simply holding each other as they came back to themselves. Nile almost whined when Booker stood up from the bed, the chill air rushing in to take his vacant spot. She shivered, and covered herself with the blankets as he went to the bathroom.

“I gotta pee.” Nile said as soon as Booker returned. She sprang out of bed, knowing that if he got back under the covers with her she’d soon be too comfortable to move.

When she came back to the bedroom Booker lounging on the bed, looking one second away from falling asleep. Nile grinned and shimmied under the covers, wrapping herself around him. The bathroom had been practically arctic, but Booker was warm and Nile hugged him tightly to try and regain her lost heat.

“You’re so warm.” She told him appreciatively.

“Am I just a heater to you?” He teased.

“I’m afraid so.” Nile said seriously. “I may ditch you the second a decent radiator comes along.”

“Oh, ma chéri, you wound me.”

Booker shrugged out of Nile’s embrace and pointedly turned away from her. Nile shifted so she could place her cold feet on his back, and he yelped. She cackled.

“Sorry.” She apologised, scooting up behind him. He didn’t respond, still pretending to be hurt.

“I love you.” She sang, bending down to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Is putting your cold feet on someone a sign of love in Chicago?” Booker asked her.

“Mmhmm.” Nile said.

As quick as a flash, Booker shifted in her arms, contorting himself so that he could brush his own icy feet against her legs. Nile couldn’t help but shriek, jumping away as she laughed.

“I love you too.” Booker smirked.

*****

It was strange, Booker thought, to be acting like a tourist in a city so close to the one he’d grown up in. Strange, but nice, to see it through Nile’s eyes. What he thought of as familiar and ordinary was the opposite to Nile, and she took photo after photo as they steadily made their way through Aix’s greatest cafes, museums, and art galleries. He supposed his living in England for the past decade or so had something to do with it too: it was truly like coming home. The streets, the architecture, the _people_ all seemed comforting, and his heart swelled with joy to see Nile embrace it all.

He was almost regretting not holding out for a proper holiday: a weekend just wasn’t enough, and if it weren’t for the small matter of both of them having to show up to work he would have happily extended his stay by another week. There was just so much to do, so much to show Nile, and he’d barely even scratched the surface of all the potential activities he’d plotted ahead of their trip. No matter. They’d just have to come back later.

Their flight was due just before dinner, and they were spending their last hour browsing the various tourist shops that littered the city: Nile wanted to send her mum a postcard.

“I know I’ve been sending her photos all weekend,” she said as they browsed one of the shops, “but she’s always loved getting postcards from me, even if it’s just from a day trip. She keeps them in a little binder.”

Booker was happy to stand back as Nile flicked through postcards: she was a woman on a mission, and had a slight frown on her face as her finger trailed down the racks of cards, discounting them one by one until she found something suitable. Chosen card in hand, she perused the rest of the shop, Booker in tow.

“Oh this is cute.” Nile picked up a lavender-stuffed heart and sniffed it appreciatively. A dreamy smile passed over her face, and Booker made a mental note to take her back there in the summer, when the lavender fields would be at their most vibrant.

The lady behind the counter laughed, and said something to Nile.

“Oh, uh, je suis désolé, je ne parle pas francais.” Nile said, in an almost perfect Marseille accent. Booker felt a swell of pride: she didn’t speak French _yet_ , but she sure sounded like she could.

“She said it’s for your underwear drawer. To make it smell nicer.” Booker translated with a grin, and Nile raised an eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me, if this is going in _anyone’s_ underwear drawer it’s going to be yours.” She said, dangling the heart just in front of his nose.

“Touchè.” Booker said.

Nile studied the heart a moment longer, then picked up a second one.

“My mom’d love this.” She explained. “Do you think it’d keep its scent if I post it?”

“I think so.” Booker said, though he honestly had no idea. “Maybe send her one of those bottles of perfume as well though, just in case.”

“Perfect.” Nile picked up the bottle and carried her purchases to the till.

“English?” The woman behind the counter asked as she carefully wrapped up the hearts in tissue paper.

“American.” Nile said, with an apologetic grin.

“I’m sorry.” The woman gave Nile a consoling smile, and Nile turned round to give Booker a horrified look. He tried very hard not to laugh. He should have warned her that even though _he_ had fallen head over heels for an American, the locals were all born with a mild to moderate dislike for those who primarily spoke English.

“Merci beaucoup.” Nile still smiled and thanked the woman once she had paid, and the woman at least smiled back.

“Ready to go home?” Booker asked her as they made their way back to the hotel one final time, her arm tight around his waist.

“No.” Nile laughed. “Not in the slightest.”

“Me neither.” Booker said. He tightened his hold on Nile, enjoying their last few moments of serendipity before their return to the real world.

*****

It seemed like a lifetime had passed, and at the same time it felt like no time had passed at all. Booker wasn’t foolish enough to say it had all been like a dream: they’d had their ups and downs over the years, as all couples do, but their low points had been brief and their high points had been wonderfully bright. Booker wouldn’t trade a single moment for the world.

Five years later, they returned to the site of what they both called their “first half-date”, family in tow. Leon had thankfully skipped the moody teenager stage that Booker had been so dreading, and had grown into a quiet, thoughtful boy who was still getting used to the several inches he’d suddenly shot up. Jean-Pierre was nervous about starting secondary school, Gabriel had somehow already lost one of his adult teeth, and Celeste… Celeste was the absolute joy of Booker’s life.

He hadn’t ever considered having more children after he and Marie split. He hadn’t really thought he’d have the chance. He had never been so happy to be proved wrong. Celeste was as happy a baby as Jean-Pierre had been, always smiling and looking around her at the world with her big deep brown eyes. Nile’s eyes.

The art gallery was a haven for their family on rainy days, and Celeste cooed happily at the paintings as they strolled around. Jean-Pierre had been incredibly taken with his younger sister since the day she was born, and insisted on pushing her pram when he could.

“This is great.” Nile remarked as they watched Jean-Pierre stop to pick up the toy fish Celeste had thrown from the pram. “I reckon next time we go out we won’t even have to get a sitter.”

“Ah, going out.” Booker said wistfully. “How I miss it.”

Nile laughed, and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll take you out for dinner next week. How about that? A proper date night, like we used to.”

“Sounds great.” Booker grinned. He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in to drop another kiss onto her head, pulling back before Gabriel could pretend to throw-up as he often did when they showed affection. He needn’t have worried- Gabriel had found another couple to annoy instead.

“Ohhhhh, Leon’s talking to a girl!” Gabriel told them loudly and with a complete lack of tact, pointing to where Leon was indeed in deep discussion with a girl of a similar age to him. Booker recognised her vaguely from Leon’s school.

“Don’t point.” Booker reprimanded Gabriel, putting a gentle hand on his arm and bringing it down.

He pointedly navigated Gabriel away to the next room, giving Leon a bit of privacy. Booker had often wanted siblings as a child, but looking back he was very glad he didn’t have to make it through the horrible hormones and feelings that came with puberty with a younger brother pointing at him every step of the way.

“That’s Alice.” Nile whispered to Booker as he caught up with her. “From his history class.”

“Ah, _the_ Alice.” Booker raised an eyebrow.

“Mmmhmm.” Nile nodded. Leon kept bringing Alice up whenever they could coax him to talk about school with them, and they had gathered that he had some sort of crush on her judging by the way his ears turned pink whenever he said her name.

“We’ll let him catch up to us when he’s ready, give him some time without the others bothering- where’s Gabriel?” Booker broke off as he looked around the room. Jean-Pierre was still there with Celeste, but Gabriel had vanished.

“I’ll get him, meet you in the cafe.” He told Nile, jogging back to the other room. Sure enough, Gabriel was stood between Leon and Alice, talking at speed. Booker headed over.

“Our step-mum works in a museum like this one.” Gabriel was saying. “She says they keep all the good stuff in the vaults underground. All the haunted ones. The ones with curses.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Alice scoffed. Leon looked mortified.

“Come on, let’s go get some snacks.” Booker rested his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders. “Leon can join us later if he wants.”

“Thanks.” Leon muttered, not meeting Booker’s eyes.

Gabriel thankfully didn’t put up a fight that time, and let himself be led away, lured by the promise of food. Nile had already found a table, and was carefully keeping an eye on Jean-Pierre as he tried to feed Celeste slices of banana. There was more banana on the floor than Booker guessed had made it into her mouth, but both she and Jean-Pierre were smiling.

“Leon’s got a girlfriend.” Gabriel sang as he sat down, grabbing a slice of Celeste’s banana.

“No, he’s _talking_ to a girl.” Booker corrected. “And you’re not allowed to tease him about it, alright? One day you might like a girl, and you won’t want anyone teasing you about that either.”

“Nah.” Gabriel shook his head vehemently. “I don’t like girls.”

Booker was about to tell him that that might change in the future, but Gabriel had a thoughtful expression on his face and spoke again before Booker could open his mouth.

“I don’t think I’d like it if I was teased about liking a boy though.” He shrugged. “Ok. Can I still tease him about everything else?”

“Of course.” Booker laughed, and met Nile’s eyes. She raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at Gabriel, then back at Booker. He knew exactly what she wanted him to do. She was a master of silent communication. He cleared his throat.

“You know, it doesn’t matter who you like, boy or girl or whatever; we’re always going to love and support you.” He said. There. That was pretty good, he thought. Gabriel however, looked at him like he was stupid.

“I know.” He said. “Papa, you own a gay bookshop. And this one time uncle Nicky was telling me about how you once dated a man who turned out to be-”

“Alright.” Booker interrupted before Gabriel could finish. “Just… so long as you know.” Perhaps that hadn’t gone as well as he’d thought after all.

“A man who turned out to be what?” Nile asked Booker, a glint in her eye as she grinned at him. Even Celeste and Jean-Pierre stopped their combined banana demolition to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said gruffly.

“A what, papa? Was he a Russian spy? Was he your long lost evil clone?” Jean-Pierre pushed, sounding excited. He’d been reading a lot of spy stories recently, and was finding everyday life terribly dull in comparison.

“He turned out to be a PSG supporter.” Booker said. “I didn’t know until it was too late.”

Nile threw back her head and laughed, and Celeste tried to copy her, looking gleefully up at her as she did. Booker would be offended by the laughter if it wasn’t so damn adorable.

“Oh Book, no wonder you kept that quiet.” Nile snickered.

“You need to spend less time talking to Nicky.” Booker warned Gabriel. “He’ll tell you nothing but lies about me.”

“That’s fine.” Gabriel shrugged. “I tell him nothing but lies about you too.”

Booker looked despairingly at Nile, and she shifted Celeste on her lap in order to reach across the table and consolingly pat his hand. Even now, years later, that simple touch still lit a fire in Booker’s heart. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He couldn’t be happier.

“I know.” Nile said softly, guessing his thoughts in the way she’d become able to. She took a firm grip of his hand.

“Happy anniversary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it my dudes! Thank you all so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the angst while it's here lads, cos this fic's gonna get Fluffy real soon.
> 
> (Sidenote, Nile being a marine in the film is... problematic to say the least. I've tried to get round it in this fic, but ofc if anyone has any issues with how I've presented things gimme a shout.)


End file.
